Ticking Away
by Lucida Bright
Summary: Mack's story from CLOCKING OFF. Manchester, present day. Is Mack doomed to a lonely life, or is there a woman who can, at last, make him happy?
1. Face

_A resolution for the bizarrely unloved Mack (dear Paul Abbott/John Fay, what WERE you thinking?) Please review - feedback encourages greater effort (blatant bribery, but I adore feedback...). Big thank you to FunkyGibbon for the introduction to Mack._

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Ellie stood looking down at the flattest tyre she'd ever seen – not that she could see much in the gloom. Unwilling to stand in the sheeting rain for a second longer than necessary, she flung herself back in the car and slammed the door.

'Mum? Why've we stopped?

'Is the car ill, Mum?'

Twin questions. Twin faces in the back seat.

'Flat tyre, girls. I'll have to change it. You stay put. Do not move. Do not take off your seat belts. Do not breathe.'

She heard deep breaths being drawn. 'Er, breathe. But don't do anything else.'

She looked through the windscreen at hammering rain visible in the headlights of cars whooshing past, spraying water and mud, the M602 traffic screaming towards the worst of Monday rush hour. _Almost eight. Shit_. She had to get the girls to school and herself to the office. Peter Cochrane had swanned off on some jaunt and left her to meet James Mackintosh. _Bastard doesn't have the balls to face an angry client, so I get lumbered._ Left her mobile at home, filthy weather, rush hour, still dark, freezing, windy, and it had to be the offside tyre so she'd be in severe danger of being squashed by a juggernaut. _B__loody arsing brilliant._ But unless she wanted to be an unemployed corporate finance lawyer she'd better get to grips.

'Won't be long. Don't move one single solitary muscle till I get back in. Promise?'

'Promise!' came the duet.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Mack braked to avoid rear-ending the Micra ahead of him. Bloody traffic. Should have been in early. _Should have left last night after the row._ Thinking he could repair the damage over a breakfast shag was stupid. _Stupid_. When would he learn? Women were a necessary evil, irresistible but toxic. Or was it him? He had friends with happy marriages. So maybe it was him. He could get women, so he couldn't be that hideous, and he had money, and a mind of his own. And an XJS. And a boat rotting from misuse in Majorca. So women kept trying to catch him, but not the right women. Not one right woman. _Am I that boring? Moody git, sure, work too hard._

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, twitching as the traffic lurched to a halt again, strings of red brake lights along the M602. If he came off at the Eccles turnoff he'd hit traffic on Liverpool Road anyway, so he might as well stick it out.

Crawling down the inside lane, he passed a car on the hard shoulder. The boot lid was open, and a woman in a skirt and heels was dragging out the spare tyre. Without thinking, Mack pulled on to the hard shoulder and reversed back. Jumping out of the car he ran back through the downpour, to be brought up short by a wild-eyed vixen waving a tyre brace at him.

'It's OK – I'm not a mad axe murderer. You want help changing the wheel? My name's Mack, and I'm now almost as wet as you.'

Ellie's heart was racing. If she'd been on her own, it wouldn't have occurred to her to be scared, but with the girls in the car... But this man looked OK, and was already very wet. Did rapists risk pneumonia for a thrill? Did they drive old Jaguars? But did decent blokes exist? _A man kind enough to get cold and wet to help a complete stranger?_

'Look. Let me get the tool kit; you get back in the car and lock the doors. I'll change the wheel, put the kit away, and you can drive off. Fair enough?' Mack smiled at her, trying to reassure her. A dark tailored suit clung to her slender body, dark hair clung to a well-shaped head. _Not beautiful, but intelligent, guileless, attractive._

Ellie gave him a tentative half smile. Maybe God did exist. "Very fair indeed. Thank you. Thanks very much.'

She did what he suggested. Got in the car, locked the doors, and answered endless questions from her six year old twins as they watched the tall stranger get started. The girls giggled and squealed when they felt the jack lift the wheel off the road, but Ellie was transfixed by the sight of her personal knight of the road. Tall, well made, well dressed, very wet. Competent, focused and efficient, he had the wheel changed, the flat back in its housing and tool kit packed away in little more than ten minutes.

Mack closed the boot lid and met two pairs of owl eyes staring at him from the back seat. He was seeing double – until one child broke into a shy grin and waved at him. The other followed suit, and Mack couldn't help doing the same back.

The woman was out of the car again. Their mother? Probably. Hard to tell her age, but old enough, for sure. This time she was smiling up at him; this time Mack fell into eyes big enough to drown in. She was saying something.

'...can't tell you how grateful I am.'

'You're welcome. You should have stayed in the car – look at you – drenched.'

It was getting lighter; the rain wasn't easing off, but the wind had dropped.

'Can't get more drenched, then. Anyway, look at you. My name's Ellie, by the way. I can't thank you enough.'

That smile again. Mack opened her door. 'Come on. Go and get warm.'

Ellie was grateful to sink into the driver's seat; her knees were suddenly unreliable in the face of a smile that lit him from inside, transformed the dour face streaming with rain. His eyes gleamed silver in the strengthening light.

'If I go first, you'll know I'm not following you.'

There was a small silence.

_Ask her to dinner. No – she'll think you're a stalker._

_Ask him for his email. Just so you can thank him. No – he'll think..._

'Bye then, Ellie.'

'Goodbye. Thanks again.'

'Bye!' chorused the twins.

Mack gave them a wave and ran back to his car. Within a hundred yards he'd lost sight of them. _Three identical smiles, three pairs of luminous green eyes_. A nameless woman and her daughters. _Stupid_. Why didn't he ask? _Why_? Why did he always have to be so bloody stupid?

xxxxxxxx

Ellie was in the office a heartbeat before nine o'clock. She sent Gillian over to Kendalls with instructions to get a suit, a cami top, tights, black court shoes and underwear as close to the bedraggled items she was wearing. Gillian she could trust to buy something smart and sensible without going mad – clothes were clothes, by and large. A car was a car, as long as it worked and caused her no grief...

But the car had brought her Mack. Mac... what? -Pherson, -Kenzie, -Intyre, -Phee, -Millan? _Pointless_. Her knight of the road. Mystery Mack. _Ah well._ Redeemed a crap morning, went some way to restore her faith in man kind. It seems they weren't all bastards.

By ten thirty she'd changed into her new clothes – thanks to Gillian – and was ready to face the pissed-off client. He was MD of a small textile company in Ardwick Green – eight million pound turnover at the last year end, three hundred-odd staff and a hungry Edwardian mill to feed; the business was started by this man's father in 1959, unlikely to survive another two years on its own. It was ripe for a trade sale, but James Mackintosh was dead set against it.

Mack-intosh. _If only._

At a minute past eleven, Gillian rang through. Her client had arrived. Punctual. _Courteous, even when he's coming to give us a bollocking._ Ellie went downstairs to collect him. Not the time to ask him to find his way up, even though he'd been here often enough. Ellie came out of the lift and walked around to the atrium, heels clicking on the marble floor. She spied a pair of long legs sticking out from behind a pot of riotous greenery – there seemed to be only one body sitting waiting, so these must be Mackintosh legs.

God had not only decided to exist today, he was in a seriously good mood.

'Hello, Mack.'

James Mackintosh had been staring at reflections in the floor, lost in daydreams, so noticed a pair of slender legs before he looked up at the sound of his name. He realised he was staring like a village idiot, and jumped to his feet. 'Ellie... Ellie?'

'I know. Crazy, eh?'

'Wonderful. Crazy...' he turned on the megawatt smile.

She held her hand out. 'Elena Jeffreys.'

He took her hand in his. 'James Mackintosh.'

Her eyes were the same luminous green; her hair, dry, was sort of... light... soft...

'Shall we go up? You've a bollocking to deliver, I believe.'

'Have I? Oh. Yes.' He let go of her hand.

'Where's Peter?'

'Called away, I'm afraid.'

'Oh, what a shame.'

Ellie couldn't stop the stupid smile spreading over her face. 'Follow me, Mr Mackintosh.'

'Anywhere, Mrs Jeffreys.'

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Ellie called an associate into the meeting purely to make her concentrate on business, but once they'd agreed a solution, Mack thanked Jasper warmly and shovelled him out of the conference room so fast he got windburn.

'Will you have lunch with me?'

'Can't, sorry. Meeting with Pannones in Deansgate.'

'Tomorrow, then?'

'I'm in Leeds all day. But can I take you and Mrs Mackintosh to dinner sometime soon?'

'First, there's no Mrs Mackintosh. Well, there was, but she's no more.'

'Is she buried under the patio?'

'No, more's the pity. She's on to the next patsy. Secondly, you're in Manchester, where no self-respecting man would allow a woman to pay for dinner.'

'Ah, but not only are you in the twenty-first century, but in Barbirolli Square, and no lawyer would allow a valued client to part with a brass farthing. Except for their extortionate fees.'

'Why not let Mr Jeffreys pay, then? Honour satisfied that way.'

'My father would, I'm sure, be delighted to cough up for a fish supper, had he not died last year. If you're thinking of a theoretical husband, seeing as you're guessing that those children you saw this morning are my daughters, fret not. The father of my twins is long gone and almost forgotten.'

'Dead?'

'No, more's the pity.'

'In that case, will you come out with me this evening and argue over the bill?'

_He's got the most extraordinary eyes. And eyelashes to die for, long and curly. Outrageous. _

'How could I resist?'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She met him at eight, in Didsbury village, five minutes walk from her house. By eleven, they were still in full flow, but the babysitter would be tapping her fingers like the harbinger of doom, so Mack drove her home. He squeezed the long, elegant Jag into an impossibly small parking space outside the house, and followed her to the door.

Before she put the key in the lock, Ellie turned to face him. 'Lovely Mack. What an extraordinary day...'

He was very close to her. She could feel his warmth, feel his breath on her face, smelling of cigar and whisky.

'If you come in, you'll stay.'

'Can I come in, then?' He wanted to kiss her so much it made him dizzy.

'I don't think so. Not tonight.'

Mack pushed her hair behind her ear, stroked her neck with his fingers, an arm round her waist, his head bent to hers.

'I want to stay, very much. I wanted to ask you this morning.'

'Can't believe you're here. So lucky.'

'Let me come in, then. Ellie, please.'

His lips feathered across hers, a ghost of a kiss, promising so much. A sound came from Ellie's mouth that was somewhere between a whimper and a laugh, and they were kissing, sweet, hot, wet mouths tasting, exploring, hands and arms and bodies touching, caressing, as Mack pressed her back against the front door.

They almost fell headlong when it opened. The light from the hall spilled over them, and Joycie's voice scythed through the charged air.

'Thought I heard a car. Nice time? Girls have been really naughty but they're kipping now. You can give me my money tomorrow. Night, then.'

She leapt past them and off into the shadows across the street, her heels clacking up the path of number ninety-four.

TBC


	2. Hands

Somehow Mack was in the hall, on the dangerous side of the front door. He must have read her mind, because he looked suddenly unsure of himself.

'Would you rather I left? I'm sorry – you did say no.'

Ellie didn't answer. Mack didn't come close to her; stayed leaning against the wall, hands in pockets. 'I want to stay. You know I want to stay with you. But I also know you have kids asleep upstairs, and that you only met me this morning, and...'

Ellie came and took his hand. 'My god, Mack, I don't believe you.'

'I'm sorry. I do mean it, I'll go...'

Ellie reached up and kissed his cheek, stroking his face, smiling into his eyes. 'I mean I don't believe how lovely you are.'

She saw him blush, and felt her heart being squeezed. 'You come out of the blue to rescue me this morning, in the pouring wet and dark, and vanish off into the sunrise. And then...' She smiled. 'And now you're doing it all over again...'

'What?' He looked almost nervous.

'Being chivalrous. I'm not used to it. So I'm wondering what _is_ wrong with you.'

'I'm boring, and moody, and think about nothing but work.'

'You say that like it's a bad thing.'

Mack put his head back and roared with laughter, pulling Ellie close and rocking her in his arms. '_You_...' He pulled back, his arms still around her, and looked at her.

In the light of those silver eyes, Ellie could feel her heart racing. She pulled away from him while she still could. She drew him after her into the sitting room. 'Drink?'

'OK. But I'm driving...'

Ellie smiled, acknowledging his promise. 'Whisky? Help yourself.'

Mack wandered over to the sideboard and looked at the bottles. 'Bloody hell, this is quite a collection of single malts. Glengoyne, Scapa, Aberlour... You don't see these every day.'

'It was my father's passion. Once a year he'd get in the car and disappear north for a week, visiting distilleries and his favourite pubs. He'd come back with a new discovery every time. Those are the last of his treasures – every time I have a drink, I think of him.'

'You miss him.'

'Very much. Although he was an old bastard, really. Terrible womaniser. My mother stuck it for thirty years but left him in the end.' Ellie picked up the Aberlour. 'Know this?'

Mack shook his head. Ellie poured him a tot and handed him the glass. She poured herself a drink from the bottle of Lagavulin and raised her glass. 'To knights errant,' she said, smiling up at him and taking a sip.

'To flat tyres,' Mack replied with a straight face.

Ellie giggled. 'That has to be the most unglamorous toast ever made,' she said. 'But I'll drink to that, wholeheartedly.'

She took another sip, then held the glass to to Mack. 'Here. Try this. See how they compare.'

Mack took her glass, then put both glasses on the sideboard and turned back to Ellie. 'I'd rather taste it this way.'

He cupped her face in both hands, and traced over her lips with his tongue. She opened to him like an evening primrose, tasting the heather honey flavour of the whisky in his mouth, smoky flavours of peat and tobacco. Langorous kisses – tender, unhurried, promising – became playful, Ellie feeling the graze of stubble as she nipped at his chin and ran her tongue over his bottom lip; Mack trailed kisses along her jaw and traced the whorls of her ear, his breath hot and humid on her skin.

'_Ellie_...'

'_Hmmm_...'

His mouth on her neck, on her throat, her head flung back, muttering his name

Mack groaned, his hands moving down her back, moulding her bottom, pulling her in to him, his tongue darting and teasing till Ellie moaned, hanging on to him as her knees threatened to give way. She pulled him to the sofa and let go, sinking into the cushions, panting, drugged with wanting him. Mack stood over her, flung off his jacket, dragged the tie from round his neck, kicked off his shoes. He knelt beside her, removed her shoes with gentle hands, smoothing his palms over her feet and up her calves, squeezing the muscles, stroking up over her knees, his fingers nudging just beneath the hem of her skirt as he held her gaze, molten silver meeting jade. Stroking down her leg, he picked up her left foot, bent his head and brought it to his lips, kissing her instep, trailed kisses up to her knee...

'_Mack_...'

Ellie sat up, reached out for him, cupped his jaw in her hands, drew him up so he was kneeling between her legs, his hands under her thighs. Her eyes were blazing, her lips swollen, inviting; she slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. With his middle finger Mack trailed a path from her forehead, down her nose, to her lips; he pushed his finger into her mouth and Ellie suckled on it, making Mack draw a long breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He put both hands under her arse and pulled her forward; Ellie wrapped her legs round his hips, her arms round his head, and found his mouth with hers, open, gasping with desire, tongues snaking together, teeth grazing lips.

'_Ellie_, I want you so much... want to see you...'

His hands pushed under the cloudy silk of her top...

'_Mummy_...' a small tearful voice, croaky with sleep and terror.

Ellie untangled herself in an instant and went to her, kneeling so she could look into the child's face, streaked with tears. '..._it was the raspberry nightmare_.'

'My poor darling...' Ellie took the child in her arms, rocked her, kissed her hair, kissed her blotchy cheeks. 'It's OK now, the bad dream's gone.'

Mack tucked in his shirt and began to do up buttons, keeping his back to the child so she didn't see his very obvious erection. He put his jacket on in an attempt to hide the evidence.

'What were you doing, Mummy?'

'What, when you came in?' The girl nodded.

'I was kissing Mack, darling. It's a nice game you're allowed to play sometimes, when you're old like Mummy. Come on, angel. Let's get you back to bed.'

She picked up her daughter, cradled her on her hip, turned to Mack. 'Wait for me. Don't go,' she said, with the ghost of a smile, eyes making deep promises. The little girl turned wary eyes on the tall man, and started to grizzle. 'Who is he being? Is he being a daddy?'

'Greta, darling, Mack's our knight in shining armour, and he brings us good luck. If Mack gives you a kiss goodnight you'll have sweet dreams until the morning.' Ellie looked at Mack, giving him his cue.

He stroked the child's pale hair with a tenderness that brought a lump to Ellie's throat. 'Goodnight, angel. Sleep well,' he said softly, leaning to kiss her forehead. 'Sweet dreams.'

As Ellie carried her daughter to the stairs, the child stared at Mack over her mother's shoulder; as they reached the door, Greta gave him a sleepy smile, and closed her eyes.

Mack felt his heart turn over.

He picked up his glass of whisky and slumped down on the sofa, body outraged, mind in fragments. A swig of the aromatic spirit expanded in his mouth and calmed him, helped him down off the ceiling. His thoughts began to coalesce, images of the last hour flashing though his head, setting his body aflame again. Twenty four hours ago he didn't know she existed. She wasn't beautiful, wasn't young, wasn't his type. Strong, smart, independent, she had a life, a family. Where could I fit in? What could I offer her... them?

_This is mad. I haven't known her for a day, and these crazy thoughts are going through my head. Is this another stupid mistake? Or would the stupid thing be to walk out of that door?_

He took another mouthful of whisky. Was this Aberlour? Or the other one? What the hell did it matter. _It tasted better on her lips_...

Mack lurched to his feet. He had to go. She's a mother first, always. Not my type. But that child tonight, that sleepy smile. This morning, waving to him. What if they were his? Twins, maybe a son later...

He put his glass down and crept up the stairs, looking for the girls' room. The glow of a nightlight led him there, and he looked tentatively round the door. Ellie was sitting on one bed, stroking her daughter's hair. She glanced up, eyes luminous in the half-light, smiling to break his heart. Making sure both girls were asleep, she got up and crept from the room, leading Mack back to the landing. She nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, arms round his waist beneath his jacket.

Mack dropped kisses on her hair, stroking her back. 'I'm going to go. That was the deal, if you remember that far back.' He felt her chuckle against his chest, and his arms tightened round her. 'But I'm not going far, or for long.'

He pushed her away gently, so he could drop into those green pools again.

Ellie looked up at him, at the silver eyes fringed by the longest lashes, at his beautiful scarred face, the beautiful mouth. 'You don't have to go, Mack.'

He smiled, a lop-sided grin that went straight to her hormones. 'Yes, I do, love. But thank you. I won't forget that. Won't let you forget it either...' His kiss, sweet and tender, almost pushed thoughts of motherhood out of her head altogether.

'In my bag you'll find my business cards – they're in a silver card holder. Take one – it's got my mobile number and email. Oh, god, do I sound desperate?'

'Not as desperate as I'd be if I couldn't ring you. I'll leave you my numbers. I want to see you again soon. For breakfast tomorow, if possible. I'll be in touch.'

To prove the point, he cupped her breast in one hand, his mouth on hers for one last kiss.

Then he was gone; Ellie propped herself against the banisters till she could stand unaided, then went back to her daughters.

TBC


	3. Movement

'Morning. How are you? Where are you?'

Mack's voice, even distorted by her mobile, set off butterflies inside her.

'On the M60, eastbound. And I'm very well, thanks. Although I didn't sleep much.'

'Why not?'

'I'll give you three guesses.'

'My dreams were quite vivid. I woke up in a muck sweat. I blame you, of course.'

'Er...?' She tried to sound indignant, but couldn't stop the giggle.

'Actually, that was a lie. I slept really well – first time in ages. You must be good for me.' His voice had dropped to a soft growl, which made her hands shake so much that she ground the gears changing up to third at the lights.

'I'm not sure you're good for me. I almost crashed the car just then.'

Mack chuckled. 'Is that my cue to be the RAC substitute again?'

'I could definitely do with an emergency service right now.'

She heard Mack take a sharp breath and realised what she'd said out loud. 'Oh, Christ. Did I actually say that?'

Mack laughed.

'I did, didn't I?'

More laughing.

'Stop laughing. Bastard. I know I embarrass myself but you don't help.'

Mack was still laughing.

Ellie emitted a small scream and hit the off button, then screamed to herself in horrified glee, ending in giggles. The man in the car next to hers grinned at her, and she grinned back, blushing like a schoolgirl.

The phone rang again. He was still laughing. 'Are you still in one piece?'

'No thanks to you.'

'Can you get away at lunchtime?'

'Sure, if you want to come over to Leeds.'

Mack sighed. 'What time will you be back?'

'About nine, I expect. But I'll only be fit to crawl into bed.'

'Suits me. I'll come over to yours, then. See you about four minutes past nine.'

Ellie chuckled. 'I can't say anything without humiliating myself, can I?'

'I must admit, you're pretty funny for a lawyer.'

'I know. I'm a joke.'

'You're adorable.'

There was a silence.

'I said that out loud, didn't I? See, you're not the only one.'

'You've only known me for twenty-four hours, Mack. When you've known me a bit longer, you'll see I'm rubbish, really.'

'OK. I'll let you know in about thirty years.'

Another silence.

'Look, Ellie, I've got a really bad memory, so if I don't see you tomorrow I'll forget what you look like and then I won't recognise you and that would be sad. For you, I mean. If I walked past you in the street on Thursday and didn't remember you.'

'Okay, okay. I get it. You're just doing me a favour, right? Helping me to help myself.'

'That's right.'

'So, I should help you back. What do knights errant need... Armour shined? Steed rubbed down? Lance buffed up?'

In the silence there was the small sound of a snort being suppressed.

'Oh, fuck off. That's your filthy mind, you mill owner you.'

Shameless laughing now.

'All right, I give in. I'll surrender if you just... stop... laughing... at me.'

'Wow. You give in easy. That's good.' Mack's breath hissed between his teeth as he thought about Ellie giving in. Ellie could hear him thinking, and it made her blush.

'I'll cry in a minute if you don't shut up.'

'Sorry, sweetheart.'

'No, you're not.'

'No, I'm not. You're right. I like thinking about you surrendering.'

Ellie took a deep breath and ploughed on. 'Tomorrow I'm supposed to be taking a very important, very rich, charming, handsome, courteous and very NICE client to lunch. But, for you, James Mackintosh, I will give him my young and very beautiful associate to play with instead, so that you can take me somewhere expensive and discreet where I can bite you.'

'Fair enough. There's a sandwich bar on Oxford Road which does nice cheese barms.'

'Pickled eggs?'

'The best.'

'All right then. Twelve thirty, my office.'

'Deal.'

'Phew.'

'Have fun in Leeds.'

'What are you doing today?'

'Oppressing the workers, stitching up my competitors, ripping off the customers, evading tax – you know the sort of thing.'

'Well, go to th' bottom of ower steirs.'

'Is that meant to be Lancashire dialect?'

'I thought it was rather good.'

'It were rubbish, love. I'll teach you to get your tongue round my accent.'

'Oh, goody. I've always wanted to meet a really cunning linguist.'

'Oh, god... My office has got big windows and every bloody employee can see me blushing. You have a very dirty laugh for a mother of twins, Elena Jeffreys.'

'I'm at the turn-off now. Better go.'

'I'm at the turn-on now, and I'm not saying the next bit.'

Ellie rocked with laughter.

'Go and oppress some workers, Mr Mackintosh.'

'I don't know what I see in you.'

'Neither do I. Go away.'

She blew a kiss down the phone, and hung up, feeling every nerve end in her body tingling, a foolish smile all over her face.

Mack put the phone down and sat back, grinning like a fool. This was all new to him; the last... he checked his watch... twenty-three and a half hours had turned him inside out, and it scared him. He loved it. He hadn't stopped smiling since last night. Thinking of Ellie, eyes closed, head flung back, moaning his name... thinking of her hands, her mouth, her skin.

'A'right, Mack?'

Grace had her head round the door, and looked disconcerted. Mack sat up, picked up the phone, and tried to look faintly businesslike. 'Yes, Grace. Cup of coffee?'

'Right-o. Er, Jim Ramsbottom's coming in at eight-fifteen. CRM software bloke.'

Mack sighed, and shut Ellie up in a steamy little corner of his mind. 'Thanks, Grace. Strong coffee, then.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wednesday morning. Meeting with PRs about a corporate finance feature in _Finance North_, and sponsoring _Insider_'s deals dinner. Meeting with Peter Cochrane and Close Brothers about Permafrost's AIM listing. Then Mackmackmack for a whole, delicious, uninterrupted ninety minutes. This shining reward gleamed ahead of her, drawing her through the dross of the morning.

Noon. Twelve-fourteen. Twelve-nineteen. Twelve-twenty-seven.

The phone rang. It was Peter _fucking_ Cochrane. 'Can you spare me two minutes?'

'What, now?'

'Please.'

'I'm expecting James Mackintosh.'

'He won't mind waiting for five minutes.'

'Five? You said two.'

'The longer you argue, the longer this will take.'

Ellie cursed under her breath as she skittered over to Peter's office. It was nine minutes, and utterly unnecessary. As she shot from his office, Steph called over from reception. 'Visitor for you. Mr Mackintosh, waiting downstairs.'

She took deep breaths all the way down in the lift and tried to look cool and professional as she walked to meet him. But instead of the flirtatious little smile she intended, a stupid grin spread over her features when she caught his eye. The only consolation was that the same stupid grin was plastered over his face, too. She managed to keep to a decorous peck of a kiss, instead of dragging him to the floor and ripping his clothes off, which is what she'd have preferred, CCTV or no CCTV.

'I remember you. You're that woman.'

'Glad to see the memory's holding up.'

'It's not the only thing that's holding up, I have to tell you. I'm glad I've got this nice heavy coat on.'

'Pervert. Come on, where are we going?'

'Got any nice spacious cupboards here?'

'After lunch. I'm starving. You promised pickled eggs.'

'God, don't you think about anything other than your stomach?'

'I think about yours. And other bits of you. And getting my hands on them.'

Mack groaned softly. He grabbed Ellie's hand and laced his fingers through hers, and towed her out of the building. 'Bastard architects. Bastard crime prevention policemen. No little quiet corners. Where's one supposed to get a bit of nookie?'

Mack growled at the clean, nook-free zone of Barbirolli Square, and took a couple of calming breaths. Ellie was laughing at him, but her legs were shaking.

'You OK with Nico's?'

Ellie nodded. 'Lovely. Haven't been there for ages.'

They walked across the tram tracks of Moseley Street and in through the back door of the Midland Hotel. Off to the right of the corridor were the stairs down to the conference suites, deserted and silent. Ellie pulled Mack round the corner, and pushed him, giggling, against the wall, hidden behind a glass cabinet from passing eyes.

There was no finesse, no romance – just hunger, and wanting. Ellie took his mouth, pulling his head to hers with grasping hands, her body rammed against his, close as they could get in the corridors of Manchester's five star hotel. Where conferences finish for lunch at quarter to one.

The doors of the big function room opened and people flooded out in search of alcohol, food, phones, fresh air and fags. Their aperitif interrupted, Mack and Ellie tried to look as though they were coherent and sane, and not completely intoxicated, barely able to stand up straight.

They walked through reception to Nico's brasserie, and Ellie was shown to their table in a quiet corner.

'I'll be, er, two minutes,' said Mack, with a meaningful glance for her benefit. She looked down, trying not to grin, and followed the waiter as Mack vanished.

By the time he returned, minus coat and looking almost calm, Ellie had drunk half a jug of iced water and had cooled off.

Lunch, therefore, was very civilised. They had agreed to be civilised, because screaming in passion as they climaxed all over the cream table linen would have put other lunch guests off their quennelles. Or started a trend.

'Can I see you tonight?' Mack asked over the Niçoise.

'No, sorry. Not tomorrow night, either. Or lunch tomorrow, or Friday. Clients, equity partners, my godmother and her third husband, and the twins' best friends' parents. People staying over tonight and tomorrow.'

'Is this your normal social life?'

'Sort of. Varies. But it's always a juggling act. '

'So when am I going to see you for more than an hour? What about the weekend?'

Ellie looked at him. And looked at him. 'My mother's been nagging to take the girls to Alton Towers, which I keep refusing to let her do. She could take them on Friday night and ruin them till Sunday teatime.'

'Oh god. Not the entire weekend? What are we going to do with ourselves? We'll get so bored...'

The silver eyes glittered, and Ellie blushed like a virgin.

Ellie insisted on parting by the reception desk, where sheer traffic would stop them getting carried away. 'I've got to meet a BSD broker up from the City, and I have to have my brain in one piece or I'll be sacked.'

'Hmm. If...'

'Mack, go away now.'

He pouted like a thwarted child, and Ellie, utterly unable to resist this level of temptation, kissed him twice, and again for luck. 'Thank you for my pickled egg. I'll see you on Friday.'

'You certainly will. And I'll see you too.'

TBC


	4. Escapement

_Mackmackmack_... four hours to go... If she didn't explode first. Forty whole uninterrupted hours to themselves. What's going to go wrong? God wouldn't be that kind, would she? _If she's up there; if I haven't already been barcoded for hellfire; if..._

'...Permafrost? Ellie?'

'What? Oh, sorry, Fay. Miles away. Permafrost, yes – what about them?'

'Can we talk about the deal yet? Investors' Chronicle are nagging for something and it's the best story we got at the moment.'

'No. It should be signed later today but it won't be. The BSDs will want to play completion games till four AM but they won't risk their golfing weekends, so it'll be Monday night. I'd lay my last cent on it.

'Ellie...' Fay sounded nervous. 'I've never had the courage to ask, because I ought to know, but I don't...'

'Spit it out, then.'

'What a BSD?'

Ellie chuckled. 'Big Swinging Dick.'

Fay shrieked, and covered her mouth with her hand, blushing and giggling. 'Oh my god... now it all makes sense. No wonder Peter Cochrane looked a bit funny yesterday...' She blushed even pinker.

'Why? What did you say?'

'Er, nothing.'

'I'll weasel it out of you. Or shall I ask Peter?'

'I dare you.' The girl shovelled papers back in her file and left the room, laughing. It made a nice change to have a PR with a sense of humour.

It made an even nicer change to have something genuinely exciting to look forward to on a Friday evening. She was going to shovel her children out of the house PDQ so she could slope off with a man she'd known for fewer than five days, with every intention of having the dirtiest weekend of her life.

Ellie shifted on her leather chair, blushingly aware of being in a state of arousal whenever the most fleeting thought of Mack flew through her head. When she was a rampant adolescent she didn't feel like this. Not even when pregnant, and that was pretty bad. _Thirty-four. Mother. Corporate lawyer. Divorced. Can't fall in love. Can't. Mustn't. Am. Have._

As predicted, the Permafrost deal faltered at teatime, with the nomads moaning about due diligence and insisting on more warranties from the board as well as carping about insurance.

Ellie rang through to Gillian at four-thirty. 'If I tried to explain all this ridiculous jargon to a real person they'd go off bang. I'm a real person. I've had enough. I'm going off, and with any luck, there'll be a bang involved.'

Gillian cackled like a fishwife. 'Glad to hear it. Have a very naughty weekend, Ellie.'

'Thanks. You too.'

'Fat chance, but I'll do my best. See you Monday.'

For once in her working life, Ellie took nothing home with her. She had absolutely no intention whatsoever of thinking about work until sparrowfart on Monday, and left the building with a big smile on her face that even the Princess Parkway traffic couldn't erase.

Her mother was packing bags for the girls when Ellie got home. 'They're so excited I don't suppose they'll sleep until midnight, so I might have to dose them up with cooking brandy in their Petits Filous. OK with you?'

'Fine, Mum. Never did me any harm.'

Ellie grinned at her mother, and went back down to find her daughters. Abby was watching a DVD of _The Herbs_, and Greta was lying on the floor singing to herself and conducting the orchestra that lived on the ceiling.

'Tabbycat, Granny's going to be ready in ten minutes, so this must be the last episode tonight, OK?'

Her elder daughter nodded without moving her eyes from the screen. She didn't like interruptions and dealt with them efficiently. Greta, 32 minutes younger, was from another planet altogether, and saw life through a surreal filter which made her mother smile and her elder sister roll her eyes in exasperation.

Ellie sat for a minute and watched her identical, idiosyncratic twins and wanted, for a split second, to cancel her weekend, stay at home and play with her babies.

But much as she loved them, she longed to have Mack to herself, just for two short days. And nights. She might need to take Monday off with extreme exhaustion, if she were very lucky.

The bell rang. Mack was early. All of Ellie's vital organs did a soft shoe shuffle, and she ran to the door. She opened it a crack, peering through at him. 'Axe murderer?'

Mack's eyes narrowed. 'Not necessarily.'

'Embezzler?'

'Not this week.'

'Polo player?'

'Retired.'

'Lawyer?'

'Never.'

'Kidnapper?'

'No. Mothernapper, given half a chance.'

'My mother's still here.'

'Good. I came early so I could inspect her.'

'Oh?'

'Give me some idea of what you'll turn out like.'

'Chance would be a fine thing. I take after my father.'

'Can I come in and see?'

'S'pose.'

Ellie leant on the door as she pulled it open, so it creaked in exactly the way a door should creak. 'Come in...' she croaked. 'How toothsome you look.' She grasped Mack's tie and hauled him in, sniffing at him and nibbling his jaw. 'Hmm. Needs a little seasoning, perhaps, but not bad.'

He chuckled. 'You're insane.'

'Oh, I did tell you, good. You must remind me to take my pills in the morning or I'll start singing _Ilkley Moor baht 'at_ in the key of E.'

'Have you got a good voice?'

'OK for the shower.'

Mack pulled her into his arms, looking down at her upturned face.

'In that case, I have to tell you my memory is crap in the mornings.'

'Ooops.'

xxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time they got there, it was past seven, and hissing down, arctic ice amongst the rain smattering against the windscreen. 'You run straight in – I'll get the bags.' Mack parked as close to the front door as he could, but they were both shivering and wet when they skidded into the hall. A welcoming smile on the face of the woman who emerged from a side door did much to warm them up; the scent of the wood fire blazing in a huge hearth did the rest.

'Hello – I'm sorry it's such ghastly weather. Come and get warm; can I get you a drink while you're checking in? I'm Jo, by the way. I'll be here all weekend, so if there's anything you need, just shout for me and I'll do my best.' She poured them both a whisky while Mack signed in, then taking Ellie's bag, as well as the tray of drinks, she took them up to their room overlooking the lake.

Hunstern House had been built in 1811 by the Gibbon family, who still owned it; an oak-fringed lake, walled garden, tennis courts, croquet lawn, aviary and glasshouses had been tended well for nearly two centuries, and the glorious Regency house, with its small rotunda looking over the formal gardens, was now one of Staffordshire's more luxurious country hotels.

Ellie's face split into a huge smile when she saw the room. 'Jo – it's stunning.'

Their hostess returned her smile, pleased with the compliment. Walls a turtledove grey, white woodwork, with dusky pink silk curtains and a carpet just a little darker, it was simple, elegant and warm. The furniture looked the same age as the house, apart from a big squashy sofa, and the bed which looked new and blissfully expensive. Ellie felt herself blush and cursed. _Imagination plus middle class upbringing equals embarrassment._ Mack caught her eye, which really did nothing to help.

Left to themselves, they drank their whisky while exploring the room and its bathroom – homage to hedonism. 'This is just glorious, Mack, thank you. Have you been here before?'

'No. Friend of mine has, though. And I liked the address.' In answer to Ellie's raised eyebrows, Mack growled 'Tongue Lane...'

Ellie shrugged, as if uncomprehending. 'No, don't get that.'

Mack grabbed her and bit her neck, licking her in a blatantly lascivicious manner. 'Didn't you once say you'd always wanted to meet a cunning linguist?'

Ellie laughed, but Mack sensed her withdrawal. Worried, he frowned. 'What's up, sweetheart?'

'I'm a bit nervous, that's all. No, actually, to be honest, I'm petrified. Look.' She held her hand out, and Mack could see it shaking.

He pulled her close, rocked her gently. 'Ellie, love... do you want me to book another room? Or do you want to go home?'

She clung to him. 'No! I've been longing for this – been thinking of nothing else since Wednesday. Well, Monday, really.'

'So what's to be scared of?'

She buried her face in his neck. 'It's been ages. Years.' She looked up at him. 'Not since the girls were born. Well, once, but it wasn't...' She faltered, and pulled away from him. He took her hand and led her to the sofa.

'Have I rushed you into this? You seemed quite, er, keen...' Mack chuckled when Ellie blushed and dropped her face into her hands.

'I've never been so shameless. Can't really believe how I've behaved with you. I think if the girls hadn't been with me that first morning, I'd have dragged you into the car then and there. All wet and heroic. I nearly dropped to my knees in gratitude when you turned up at the office.'

Mack chuckled, kissing her hands. 'I'm not going to tell you what went through my head at that moment.'

'I've never been so sure of anything. Anyone. It was so simple. Lovely Mack.' She gave him a shaky smile, warm jade eyes enormous in a pale face.

'Then what are you worried about?'

'It's just – in the car, I realised it was me. Not the wanton hussy I'd been all week, just me. I want to be beautiful for you, and I'm not. My face is a mess, my body's all... used. No time for the gym, mid-thirties, twins... Saggy and pasty and boring... and it's been so long since I had sex, I can't even remember who's supposed to wear the handcuffs.'

Mack threw back his head and laughed. 'Good job you're not in PR. Ellie, love, look at me.' He put a hand beneath her chin to help her. 'If the girls hadn't been in the car on Monday, I'd have dragged you into the car, all wet and brave and shining. And I can't believe I actually left on Monday night. Whatever it is that does it for me, you've got it. Bucketloads of it.'

Ellie, shaking so much she could barely sit up straight, was caught in the light of those silver eyes. Mack cupped her cheek in his hand and her bones turned to custard.

'I'll remind you about the handcuffs if you like. But I think it'll all come back. There was nothing wrong with your technique on Monday night...'

His voice, all gravelly, did very odd things to her insides, and she did the only thing that she could think of to cure it, which was to kiss him. But he didn't let her, squeezing her into a hug before putting her at arm's length and standing up.

'You are a hussy. See? I knew it. But before you take advantage of me, I must ask you something.'

He watched the emotions flit across her face, and felt himself falling. But still on his feet, he took a deep breath. 'It's nearly eight o'clock, and I'm starving. I don't really care about you, of course, but I need food. You decide: dinner downstairs, or room service?'

Ellie suddenly felt shattered; the thought of going downstairs again, putting on a public face, was beyond her. 'Would you mind room service? I want to get out of work clothes and relax. Don't want to smile at people tonight. Just you.'

'You say the nicest things, Elena Jeffreys. What do you fancy?'

'Apart from you? You choose for me. I'll like anything you choose for me.'

Mack smiled at her and disappeared into the bathroom. Ellie heard the noise of rushing water, and the scent of something luscious wafted out to her on a wisp of steam.

'Your bath's running. Go and relax, and I'll order food. Go on...' He pulled her to her feet, and kissed her softly, lingeringly, twice, before pushing her gently towards the bathroom.

She lay, half asleep in a cloud of lime and lavender vapour, her body boneless and drifting in the balm of hot water, her head empty, warmed by knowing that Mack was next door, thinking of her.

And then he wasn't. He was there, beside the bath, with a tray of things, which he put on the floor, sitting down on the mat. Wearing nothing but his shirt, all the buttons undone, and a pair of boxers. Ellie was trembling, whether from fear or excitement she couldn't tell. Both.

'Here.' He passed her a glass of champagne, and picked up his own. 'To the most beautiful girl I could wish for.'

Ellie's face broke into a slow smile. 'And to you, my shining knight, in or out of armour.'

They watched each other, sipping slowly.

'Close your eyes.' She obeyed, and a moment later, felt something at her lips, and opened her mouth. A morsel of something aromatic, Mediterranean flavours, salty, earthy, fragrant.. 'Tapenade and roast pepper,' said Mack.

Ellie groaned with the pleasure of it, and realised how hungry she was. She opened her eyes. 'More,' she demanded.

Mack fed her canapes, and filled her glass with more fizz, until she was hazy with food and wine. He watched her, ridiculously happy just to see this woman, soft-eyed and smiling like a madonna, blossoming with his attention.

He got to his knees, took the soap, and coaxed Ellie forward so that he could wash her back with long, slow strokes, his palm sliding over her wet skin, pale as almond milk, cupping his hand to rinse away the lather. Pressing her back gently, kissing the top of her head as she lay back, Mack soaped her shoulders and arms, washed her breasts and her stomach, lifting one leg and then other, smoothing soap down to each foot, each toe, concentrating on every inch of skin, every curve and crease. Ellie felt cherished, tender, safe in the care of her lover, this marvellous man who could warm her through with a single touch, set her alight with a look.

Mack held her glass to her lips, and she felt the bubbles burst in her mouth, the heady golden delight spreading like slow fire through her body, lifting her out of time.

'_Ellie_...' he murmured, putting an arm behind her head, lifting her a little so he could reach her mouth with his, tasting the champagne on her lips, drinking her in, as he trailed his hand down her throat to where the water lapped at her breasts, caressing and stroking till she moaned, lifting into his hand as it cupped her, his thumb grazing her nipple, then traced a path down to her left hip, curving round and down her thigh, over her knee to her right leg, pulling her knee up so her leg was bent, lying against the side of the bath. Mack kissed her face – her eyelids, nose, eyebrows, breathing against her forehead as his palm wandered up along the inside of her thigh, stroking in lazy circles until Ellie was quivering, gasping, "Mack, _oh god, Mack_...' as his fingers reached her bush, stroked with the lightest of touches, tantalising, the water lapping her, before he pushed inside her, two long fingers teasing, thumb flicking gently, driving her up into a rising spiral of unbearable tension, groaning in torment.

'Ellie, look at me.'

Her eyes flicked open, unfocused, searching for his gaze. '_Mack_...' She grabbed his hair, pulled him down so she could take his mouth in passion, growling and whimpering, as his fingers drove her over the edge, liquid silk flooding around his hand; she flung her head back as her body convulsed, and she screamed his name, sobbing as her body shuddered through waves of exquisite pleasure.

She came round to find Mack's eyes, black with desire, inches from hers. 'Oh, my love...' she murmured, a lazy smile on her lips. 'Never...'

'Want you _now_, Ellie, _so much..._' he growled, and lifted her out of the bath, wrapping her in a vast towel, warm and soft. He lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed and laid her down, unpeeling the towel from her damp body. Ellie sat up, knelt up on the bed so she could reach up to him; put her hands on his chest and pushed his wet shirt back off his shoulders, till it dropped to the floor. She slipped her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, her palms sliding round behind him to cup his arse and squeeze gently till Mack groaned. He swiftly peeled off his boxers and kicked them aside, making Ellie giggle.

'Just what are you laughing at, missy?' Mack growled, and bit her shoulder.

'There's no dignity in taking off knickers...' she chuckled, taking his erection in her hands, stroked him, teasing, inviting. 'Mack... want you inside me...'

Putting one knee on the bed, Mack put his arms round Ellie, bending her back and clamping his mouth to her throat, his tongue scalding against her damp skin. He took hold of her wrists, pulled her hands above her head, held them while he kissed her breasts, his tongue driving her back into the delicious dark till she begged for release.

Mack... _please_... fuck me... now – _now_. Please...'

Ellie pulled her knee up towards her hip, loose-jointed and supple; lifted her other leg over his shoulder so that Mack hissed as he saw her, open to him, glistenening, hot, her musk intoxicating him. He dipped his head, tasted her briefly, but couldn't wait any longer; moved over her, slid into her, groaning. '_Ellie... love you..._'

'_God_, Mack, so big... _huuuh_...'

He growled, groaned, as she tightened around him; thrust in long, fluid strokes; Ellie was sobbing, gasping. '_Can't... Mack... I'm... huuh... ahhhhMack..._' She convulsed, the hot tide flooding over him, her muscles gripping him, driving him over the edge as he thrust once, twice more, shuddering, spilling into her, lost.

They lay entwined, gasping for breath, laughing, sweaty, dizzy. Ellie hugged Mack to her, delirious with the feel of him, heavy, still inside her, warm and very real. 'Love you, James Mackintosh' she murmured, kissing his ear. Unable to move, Mack kissed her collar bone. '_Mmmmmm_...' he hummed, nibbling at her skin. 'Don't want to move. Must, though.'

He slid away from her, rolled on to his back, sighing like a grampus. 'Christ, Ellie...' He propped himself on one elbow so he could look down at her, lying like a dryad on the moss-green linen. He lifted a gentle hand to her face, stroked her cheek, brushed his fingers through her hair; locking his eyes on to hers, he put a finger to her lips. 'You enchant me. Elena. _Ellie_. A week ago I didn't know there was such a woman alive, and now... I'm in love with you, Ellie. Love you, love you...'

xxxxxxxxx

_TBC_


	5. Pendulum

Ellie was dreaming. Ellie was dreaming about Mack. Mack, doing the most wicked, delectable things to her. Ellie groaned, writhing, dreambody singing as Mack played her to a crescendo, bringing her from sleep to orgasm with his mouth. She came to life screaming his name, and they celebrated the first hints of morning light taking each other over the edge of reason, and back into sleep.

Ellie woke a little while later, fizzing with energy; she leapt out of bed, dancing into the shower and squealing under the icy water before it ran hot and turned her rosy. She brushed her teeth, combed her hair back and skipped back to the bedroom, where Mack was lying on his stomach, limbs sprawled. He looked so utterly irresistible that Ellie almost hurled herself back into bed to wrap herself round him and kiss him awake; the thought of those long lashes against her skin made her purr. She leaned across the bed and kissed his naked shoulder. 'Love you, Mackintosh. Wake up,' she whispered, wanting him awake, but wanting him to sleep after the extraordinary amounts of pleasure he'd given her. She kissed his neck, then his ear, and Mack rolled on to his back; he grunted, opened one eye and made an idle grab for Ellie, getting a handful of towel. She squealed and leapt back off the bed, leaving the towel in Mack's grasp.

'Where do you think you're going? Come back to bed this instant,' he croaked.

'I'm going out to watch the sun rise.'

'Sunrise? Are you insane?'

Ellie dragged on as many bits of clothing she could find, and left the room, singing softly. '_On Ilka Moor, baht 'at, On Ilka Moor, baht 'at, On Ilka Moor, baaaht 'aaaat._'

It was freezing outside, but completely still, and silent apart from one ambitious blackbird; Ellie walked across the lawn, crunching over the hard frosted grass, to the lake. The sky was clear and pure, the colour shading from moonstone to sapphire, stars still blinking behind her, and in the east, gold and ruby bloomed and were mirrored in the glassy water.

She didn't hear his steps, but felt him at her back just before his arms folded round her and he kissed her head, nuzzling into her hair. 'Beautiful.'

'Isn't it gorgeous?'

'You, I meant.'

Ellie clutched his arms, leaning back into him, turning her head to get a glimpse of the long lashes; Mack took the opportunity to kiss her nose and any other part of her face that he could reach. Her face was gilded in the early light, her cheeks rosy in the cold, her green eyes lit from inside. She breathed out little puffs of smoke, like a small contented dragon. Above them, the branches of the oak were frosted, sun firing through the diamond powder.

Ellie turned in his arms, pushing her hands beneath his coat and wrapping her arms round his waist. She hugged him hard, nestling into his neck. 'Good morning,' she murmured.

'_Mmmmm_.'

'You hungry?'

'_Mmmmm_.'

'Breakfast?'

'_Mmmmm_.' Mack touched his mouth to hers, breath clouding as they opened to each other; lips cold, tongues hot; lazy kisses, knowing the day was theirs.

Ellie pulled away from him, a sprite, teasing. 'Race you back. Last one to the bacon gets a spanking after breakfast,' she threw over her shoulder as she ran.

'Oi! Cheating hussy...'

They skidded through the front door gasping for breath and giggling, almost colliding with Jo, carrying a stack of newspapers.

After demolishing a mountainous breakfast, they staggered upstairs, went straight back to bed and fell almost instantly into sleep, naked and twined together, lulled by food, warmth and happiness.

Mack was woken by the sound of a car on the gravel outside; Ellie's head was on his chest, her arm across his stomach, one leg wedged between his. She'd lit something inside him, this woman. Can't stop smiling. For the first time since it went wrong with Catherine... no – for the first time ever... he felt sure of someone, secure in this woman's hold, unafraid of the future. He'd had to bribe Catherine, buy himself a seventeen-year old bride who didn't know what love was meant to be. _But then I didn't know either. Trudy had to tell me I was wrong, like she told me everything else. Lost her, too._ He wouldn't lose Ellie. Generous Ellie, who gave without being asked, without expecting a return, who thanked him, praised him, loved him openly, who hid nothing, even her fears. He'd have to match her honesty, have to warn her, give her what she needed to decide. _Will she want you then? If she had any sense she'd run. Can I do better this time? Maybe she'll help me. Maybe she'll want to._

Mack stroked her head, combed his fingers through the thick, silky hair hanging over her eyes, blew at her face. Her nose twitched. He blew again.

Ellie stirred, waking to find herself wrapped round Mack; she squeezed herself a bit closer, dropped a kiss on to his chest before tilting her head back to look at him. She felt the rumble in his chest before she saw his face.

'I've never known a woman who could make me laugh just by waking up.'

'Don't mock. Not fair. Can't help it...' she muttered, her voice all husky.

'You're funny.'

'You're warped.' She tried to roll away from him, but Mack rolled with her, and she was trapped under him. 'Gerroff.'

'No chance. You lost the race. You've got to pay up now.'

'No...' she wheedled. 'Don't make me...'

'I might let you off if you beg nicely.'

'Please, pretty please, pretty Mack...'

'Yes?'

'Beast.'

'You were doing quite well till then. What a pity...'

'No! Mack...' Ellie squealed as Mack rolled on to his side, pulling Ellie over and spanking her soundly.

'Ow. _Ow._ That bloody hurts...'

'Yeah, but it's nice, isn't it?'

'No, actually, it just bloody hurts.'

Ellie sat up, swinging her legs out of bed and turning her back on him.

'Sweetheart?'

'It's fine. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to kill the mood. I told you I was rubbish.'

'Ellie, love...' He stroked her back. 'Come here. Please.' He drew her down till she lay with her back against him. 'Turn over, come on.'

Ellie twisted round in his arms, snuggled into his chest. 'Mack...'

'Good girl...' He kissed her softly. 'I'm sorry, love. I thought...'

'I know. I suggested it. It's supposed to be a turn-on. But I didn't expect it to sting like that. I'm not very sophisticated, am I?'

'Hey. I'm your run of the mill mill owner. I wouldn't recognise sophisticated if it got up and bit me on the arse.'

'There's nothing average about you, James Mackintosh.' Ellie kissed his chin.

'You missed your cue.'

'What?'

'I mentioned biting. You're good at biting. That much I do know. _argh_...'

Mack yelped as Ellie bit his neck, then worked her way down his body, nipping and nibbling at him, licking his salty skin, murmuring her appreciation as she sampled him and found him to her taste.

'Done to a turn... _mmmm_. Yum...'

'You're greedy. I like that. _Ahhhhhhh_...' He groaned as Ellie teased him, her tongue flickering, breath hot, lips slow...

xxxxxxxxxxxx

'Why don't you like your body?'

'What, my toned, svelte, perfect young bod?'

'No, your soft, supple, generous, lovable body. This one.' Mack stroked her belly, leaned over to kiss her breast. 'These lovely curves. This skin... so soft...'

'All stretched and knackered...'

Mack settled on his elbow and looked into Ellie's eyes. 'My wife had a perfect body.'

Ellie looked haunted. Mack stroked her hair, kissed her eyebrow. 'She spent a fortune on it. Lotions and potions, at the gym almost every day, facials and massages and wraps and god knows what. She wouldn't even think about having kids because it would wreck her figure. She loved being admired. Loved other blokes giving her the eye. Gave me grief because I worked hard and didn't make enough fuss of her. She liked the money, but she hated the business. Catherine wanted to be first, everything else nowhere.'

He stopped, gone off somewhere. Ellie touched his face, brought him back.

'I was the last to know. Everyone was laughing at me because I had no idea she was shagging everything she could get her hands on.' He let out a heavy sigh.

Ellie said nothing, stroked him softly, letting him talk it out as Mack told her the painful story. 'She was one of our tenants. I chiselled away at her for the best part of a year till she said yes. She was still only seventeen when we got married. I made her believe that it didn't matter if she didn't love me immediately, told her love would grow. And I thought it would; thought it did. But all the promises came from me. Never got a thank you. Should have told me something, eh?'

He stopped suddenly; Ellie reached up and kissed his chest, pulled him down so that he lay with his head on her breast, so she could hold him, warm him. She stroked his hair. 'What happened?'

'She fooled me – or to be honest, I fooled myself – for almost ten years. What the shrink calls swimming in Egypt.'

Ellie chuckled. 'Up to your neck in denial?'

Mack lifted his head to look at her. 'You've been there?'

'Floundering out of my depth in that river for longer than I care to admit.'

'Tell me.'

'I will, as soon as you've finished your story.'

'There's the shaggy dog version, but we're only here for the weekend. The edited highlights are that I had to be told by my PA, and then only when she was out of her skull on whisky and painkillers. Catherine had been having a string of affairs and in the end she left me. I was addicted to her. Thought I owned her, thought I couldn't live without her. Nearly destroyed both of us. Think I went mad for a bit...'

He hugged Ellie tight, unable to go on. She rolled over, pushing him on to his back; kissed him with passion. Touching her forehead to his, her lips an inch from his, she spoke softly, delierately. 'I love you, James Mackintosh.' She looked into his eyes, said it again. 'Love you, Mack.' A slow smile. 'Mostly for your wheel-changing skills, admittedly...'

Mack's face cracked into his sweet smile, and one hand reached to grab Ellie's bottom. 'I can't think why I love you... unless it's because you're adorable.'

She was serious for a moment, her hand cupping his cheek. 'Don't adore me, Mack. If you can love me, that's more than I can ask. I'm not an angel. Nothing special. Just a lucky, lucky woman.'

He held her head between both his hands and looked intently at her. 'You really don't know, do you?' He had a wry half-smile on his lips at her bemusement. 'Who made you think so little of yourself?'

'No-one. I mean, I have a realistic view of myself these days. No more swimming in de Nile. I know my limitations and my faults. My failings are down to me, no-one else.'

'Done your SWOT analysis, eh? OK, Ms Jeffreys, if you want to be businesslike.. Sounds like you know the W and the T. Do you know your strengths, though? And do you recognise the opportunities?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'Come on, then. Tell me your strengths.'

'Mack...' She wriggled, hooked and scrutinised.

He fastened his arms around her, keeping her captive until she confessed. 'Bet you'd rather list your weaknesses.'

'They're easier. More of them, too.' She laughed softly, self-conscious.

'Strengths, Ms Jeffreys. List.' The silver eyes held her.

'You're a bully. But OK... My daughters; my mother; a good education; happy childhood; good friends; good employer. I'm healthy, am paid well...'

'Stop, stop...' Mack shook her gently. 'Those are all assets, and only one thing in that list was about you. Tell me your good qualities, your talents, all the good bits.'

'Those are my good bits. My mother is a huge strength – she makes it possible for me to w...'

'No, Ellie, love. You don't get it, do you? And that's one of your strengths. You are so unselfish you have no concept of it.'

'Unselfish? The woman who took the first available chance to abandon her children to spend a blissfully indulgent and undeniably dirty weekend with a man she'd met five days earlier?'

'You sound as if you regret it.' Mack's smile softened the blow, but Ellie winced.

'That's the point. I don't regret a single nano-second of it. So far I've loved every selfish, orgasmic moment. Me-me-me-me-me-me, and stuff everyone else.'

'Bollocks. It's been tough trying to get you to stop giving and accept something for a change. and you're trying to change the subject, you lawyer. Back to your list, woman.'

'Oh, Mack, do shut up. Tell me more about you. What do you do when you're not working?'

'I'm boring. I work all the time. Or I did – for the last week I've done very little except think about you. Us. What you might do to me, and what I want to do to you. What we might do together...'

Ellie felt his cock twitch and start to harden. She blushed, and hid her head against his shoulder. 'Me too. Everyone's noticed at work. Even Peter. How long have you known him, by the way? He thinks the world of you.'

Mack's face darkened; he rolled away from Ellie and got out of bed, shrugging on a bathrobe and walking to the window. 'He wouldn't if he knew the truth...'

Ellie longed to go to him, wanted to take away whatever was hurting him, but forced herself to stay where she was. After a minute or so, he turned back to her, his face grey, the light gone from his eyes. Ellie patted the empty space beside her. 'Come back to bed, my love. Please.'

'You should run away, Ellie. Go home, forget about me. I've hurt so many people. Can't bear to hurt you.' He stood in the middle of the room, with nothing to lean on, nowhere to hide.

She couldn't bear to see him so alone. She slipped out of bed and went to him, naked, putting her arms around him and hugging him as hard as her strength allowed. 'I wish you'd tell me what's worrying you. You're not on your own now, darling Mack.' She looked up at his face, suddenly anxious. 'Unless you want to be...?'

He grabbed her to him, squeezed her until she could hardly breathe. 'Christ, Ellie, I want you with me more than I can tell you. But I have to tell you some things that will change your mind.'

'Not now, my love. Now I want to tell you something.' Ellie put her hands inside his bathrobe, stroked his chest, left a trail of kisses from his throat to his chest, knelt at his feet, kissing her way down his body, tasting him, flicking her tongue into his belly button. Mack groaned then, his hands going to her head. 'Ellie, no. You don't have to...'

'Yes, I do,' she muttered against his skin. 'This is what I want. Let me love you, Mack.' She cupped his balls in one hand, took his fast-stiffening cock in the other. 'Don't push me away...'

Mack was groaning her name as Ellie took him into her mouth, speaking to his body with hers, tongue and hands and lips telling him a simple truth.

TBC


	6. Ratchet

_Thanks as ever to Wombledon and grainweevil for being both picky and wise, and to the TRA girls with pokey sticks._

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mack fell to his knees and dropped his head to Ellie's shoulder, gasping for breath; their arms around each other, there were no words for this – only feeling.

Ellie kissed his nose. 'Go and have a shower, my love.'

'Come with me.'

'No. I have other plans.'

'Not without me?'

'As if. Now shift that lovely arse of yours, James.'

They helped each other to their feet, and Mack stumbled to the shower for five minutes of pulverising hot water. He returned to the bedroom to find Ellie kneeling on the bed where she'd spread towels and pillows. 'Come and lie down. On your front. Time for your massage, Mr Mackintosh.'

She covered him with a towel and rubbed his back vigorously through the fabric for a couple of minutes. 'Don't move – just think beautiful thoughts and relax. I'll be back in one minute.' She scooted into the bathroom to brush her teeth and returned to him within the promised minute.

For the next while there was silence, barring her occasional murmured instructions, and regular purrs of pleasure from Mack as Ellie stroked, kneaded, pounded, shook and caressed his body from head to toe till his bones dissolved.

'Roll over, my love,' she whispered to him, and covered his body with the towel while she massaged his head, clever fingers in his hair, on his face, his neck and shoulders. Then she moved to his feet, moving the towel to keep him warm as she worked from toes to knees. She moved to his arms, his chest and belly, and back to his legs, her touch becoming ever more sensual, longer strokes, kisses now and then to follow, fingers trailing across his skin so that he began to quiver with the sensations she conjured from him. 'Ellie, _Ellie_...' He reached for her, but she evaded him, pushing his arms to the bed. 'No, love, be still. Let me do the work.'

Then she was astride him. 'Mack... so much of you... you fill me up...'

'God, my god... _Ellie... Christ... love_...'

She rode him, squeezing him inside her, making him gasp with the torment of it. He watched her, touched her, as they drove each other to the edge, and beyond it, convulsing and shuddering in release. Ellie collapsed on his chest, kissing whatever she could find of him. Mack rolled her over, held her tight to him, kissing her neck, her ear, hair, eyebrow. 'Sweet, wild, wicked love.'

And he was asleep, leaving Ellie breathless and suddenly exhausted.

They woke, still in each other's arms, and made love in the shower before dressing and going down for lunch, ravenous, very clean, very obviously new lovers. Jo Gibbon smiled to herself as she watched them eat, not able to let sixty seconds pass without touching. It was just as well she and Monkey were still so happy, or all this blatant bliss might have worn a bit thin over the years, she thought.

Ellie tapped Mack softly on the arm. 'I must go for a walk after lunch, before I forget how to. Come with me? Or will you sit by the fire and dream about tonight?'

'No choice, woman. With you, wherever.' Mack made circles with his fingers on her palm, his eyes promising to demand rewards later.

Mack refused to let Ellie go upstairs with him for her coat. 'We'll never get outside. Stay here and I'll go.' He leapt up the stairs two at a time, leaving Ellie standing by the fire, toasting herself.

Jo Gibbon put another log on the fire and smiled at her. 'Are you having a good weekend?'

'Possibly the best of my life,' said Ellie, grinning. No point in pretending with the charming hotelier, who must have some stories to tell.

A tall man with a head of thick, ice white hair walked out of the kitchen. Jo called across to him. 'Monkey? We'll need some more logs in an hour or so.'

'Right away, darling.' He turned on his heel and went back into the kitchen.

'My husband. He was tagged Monkey at school. Repton – they were all pretty simian as far as I could tell. Bunch of hairy grunting adolescents.' Jo smiled at the memory. 'We married in 1975. Remember _The Goodies_?'

'Vaguely – mostly because my father hated them, and used to turn over at the first hint of them. When they did _Funky Gibbon_ on Top of the Pops he'd have to leave the house.' The two women chuckled.

'You can guess what my nickname was when I got married to Graeme 'Monkey' Gibbon that year...'

'_No_... Monkey and Funky Gibbon? who'd be that cruel?'

'A bunch of Repton old boys.'

They were still laughing when Mack came back downstairs. 'What's the joke?'

'Public schoolboys,' said Ellie.

'That's all right then. Come on, you public schoolgirl. Walkies.' Mack helped her on with coat, scarf, gloves and hat, and they sallied into the pale afternoon sun. Setting off round the lake, hand in hand, they walked in silence for the first few minutes.

'Did you always want to be a lawyer?'

'No, of course not. I wanted to ride circus ponies when I was eight. My tutor at uni made the law sound as thought it needed much the same skills.'

'How long have you been with Jericho Johns?'

'Since Peter's firm was bought in – he recruited me as part of his brief to build the corporate department in Manchester. I met him at university, actually; he was doing a post-grad degree in medieval history in my first year.'

'Where was that?'

'Durham.'

'Did you meet your husband there, too?'

'Tim? No. Met him when I was at law school in Chester.'

'Another lawyer?'

'No.'

Mack stopped and pulled Ellie round to face him. 'Bloody hell, love, this is like pulling teeth?'

Ellie frowned, and started walking again. 'I just don't much like wasting breath on Tim. He makes me cross just thinking about him.'

'He must have worked hard to make you this angry.'

'I'm not angry.'

'Why are you snarling at me, then?'

She looked up at him, bemused. 'I'm not, am I? I am. Sorry...'

Ellie walked into his outstretched arms and nestled into him. 'I'm sorry, Mack. I wasn't snarling at you. Just snarling. I suppose I am still angry, but he was cruel.'

'Did he hurt you?'

'Don't let's talk about this now. It's such a beautiful afternoon, and I want to be here with you, not back in the past. I don't want to waste a second of this. Please?'

Mack looked at her, the pale face turned up to his, cheeks pink in the chilled air, her great green eyes shining for him. 'Tell me about the girls, then.' He was rewarded with a slow grin, Ellie's face lighting up.

'How long have you got?'

Mack chuckled. 'The next few decades, as long as you don't mind being interrupted now and then for hot sex and lots of kissing.'

'Interrupt me now, then, and g….'

He interrupted, then they walked on, slowly, squeezed together, Mack trying to match his step to Ellie's as she talked about the twins all the way back to the house.

They had tea by the fire, toasting crumpets on a long fork in the flames and slathering them in butter. After downing three of them and two cups of tea, Mack leaned over and whispered into Ellie's ear. 'Now I want _crumpet_. Right now. Here on the rug in front of the fire with any passing female, unless you agree to come upstairs with me this minute and shag me senseless...'

The bedroom door was hardly shut behind them before Mack had ripped off his clothes and helped Ellie dispose of hers, garments strewn in a trail between the door and the bed where Ellie was on her hands and knees, Mack buried sweetly inside her, chanting her name like a mantra as he thrust into her. Ellie closed tight round him, squeezing him in strong pulses until she began to spiral, growling and panting as Mack thrust harder, groaning through clenched teeth, both of them lost to everything but the last intense moments, the heart-stopping climax and collapse into exhausted release, gasping and moaning as their bodies shuddered together.

'Ellie, my god, Ellie – you make me feel so good. Like my whole body's singing. So happy. Love you.'

Mack crawled under the duvet and pulled Ellie to him, sighing noisily with satisfaction. She stretched herself along his body, her head on his shoulder and one leg sandwiched between his, her arm across his chest. She kissed his shoulder and mumbled something into his neck, but when he grunted '_Mmm_?' to make her say it again, he got no answer. Ellie was already asleep, and Mack followed her a moment later.

They didn't sleep long, but it was already dark when Mack woke. He stretched, and the movement roused Ellie who emerged from the duvet blinking like a dormouse. Mack ruffled her already ruffled hair and chuckled. 'I love watching you wake up, funny face.'

'Oi...' she muttered, voice all husky. 'Who you calling funny face? Cheek...' She pushed at his shoulder and rolled him on to his back, then shoved at him till he rolled again. 'Shove over, go on. No, _over_...'

Mack laughed at her as he landed on his stomach, but stopped pretty quickly as he felt Ellie's teeth on his arse. '_Ow!_ You greedy hussy...'

'I'm hungry...' Ellie growled, and took another bite, her hand snaking up between Mack's legs, making him groan; he let her push him into a position that suited her and surrendered to her insistent mouth.

Later, after a joint shower, Ellie was dressing for dinner while Mack sat on the bed watching her, towel slung round his hips. 'Can't believe you want to go down for dinner. Are you bored of me already?'

Ellie flung him a look. 'Go down for dinner? Not much nutrition in that, my dear. Certainly not the most enjoyable flavour.'

Mack's grin widened. 'Full of protein, though.'

'So's tripe. Still not my choice for dish of the day. I want _food_, glorious food. That's why I agreed to come away with you.'

'Ah. That's what it was.'

'_Mm-hmm_. That was it. But I didn't realise how hard I was going to have to work for it. Some relaxing weekend. I haven't had this much exercise since I was fourteen and could give up compulsory PE .'

'Exercise isn't compulsory this weekend. You could lie around and watch me, er, exercise if you like.'

'Show off.' Ellie's lips twitched. 'Not compulsory, maybe. But compulsive... Like Pringles – once you've popped you can't stop.'

Mack roared with laughter and leapt from the bed.

It was another thirty minutes before they made it downstairs to the restaurant, and they managed to get through three courses, coffee and brandies without giving in to behaviour at which even the forgiving Jo Gibbon would baulk.

Upstairs again, Ellie collapsed on the sofa in replete ecstasy. 'God, I'm stuffed... that was just _yummy_. Thank you, my love.' She smiled up at Mack, wondering for the millionth time how she'd managed to be here with such a marvellous man.

He was opening a bottle of whisky and pouring them both a tot. 'Brought this with me – Lagavulin – thought you'd enjoy it. Forgot it last night in the heat of the moment...' He handed her a glass, picked up his own, and raised it in a toast. 'To you, my beautiful Ellie, for restoring me to life. Thank you, my love.'

They both drank, watching each other over the rims of their glasses. Mack stood by the window, his blond hair gleaming in the soft light, and Ellie realised she'd never understood before how a man – a proper man – could be called beautiful. 'What are you doing over there, apart from looking gorgeous?'

'Seeing how long I can resist the temptation to touch you.'

'Why bother? No black marks for lack of moral fibre.'

'Delayed gratification – it's good for my soul. And it's meant to make the eventual pleasure that much more exquisite. So they tell me.'

'Who's they? How come they know so much anyway?'

'Don't you believe them?'

'Not remotely. I have evidence that immediate gratification yields pretty exquisite pleasure. And life's too short, and I'm too old, to wait around until some prissy bunch of killjoys say it's okay for you to ravish me.'

'There speaks Judge Jeffreys.'

'Zackly. It's the law, so come here this instant and roger me sideways.'

'_Yes, ma'am..._'

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ellie was lying on her back, Mack sprawled across her, his head on her chest. He stirred, and looked at the clock. 'Midnight, almost...' He kissed Ellie's breast, stroking her arm and purring with pleasure. 'That was spectacular, my love. For a woman who said twenty-eight hours ago that she'd forgotten how to do this, you've brushed up bloody fast, and, if I may say so, amazingly well.' He kissed her breast again and nuzzled at her, running his hand down her side.

'This is almost all new to me, Mr Mackintosh. Never spent so much time in bed. Never wanted a man so badly. You inspire me...'

Mack looked up, wondering why she'd stopped mid-sentence. Saw tears in her eyes, and couldn't read her expression. 'What's wrong? Ellie, love, why the tears?' He moved up beside her and cupped her face in his hand.

'I've never been so happy, Mack.' She pushed her fingers through his hair, smiling into his eyes, but another tear rolled down her face. 'But I'm scared. How long before we lose this? Before you see through me? I don't understand how we got here – and don't say down the M6...' she chuckled, as Mack opened his mouth to interrupt. She was getting to know him. 'I feel very lucky. But now I want more of you, and this, all the time. I can't help wondering when you'll get bored.'

Mack's eyes narrowed as he peered at Ellie's face. 'Yes,' he declared. 'It's confirmed. You, Miss Jeffreys, are definitely, irrevocably nuts.' He bounced a kiss off her nose, then fell on her, grabbing her tight and rolling her over so he was lying underneath her. 'Ellie, love, for one thing I love you. For another, I love you. This isn't a quick fling. It's a bloody miracle.' Mack stroked her face, kissed her repeatedly. 'Stop... worrying... you... barmy... woman.'

She kissed his hand and held it over her heart, laying her cheek over his. Their pulses slowly calmed, pacing each other, as they lay quietly together in the peace of the winter night. The secret came out of the dark, her voice little more than a whisper. 'I nearly killed Tim. He made me so angry I tried to kill him.'

Mack squeezed her hand gently, and rubbed her back, his fingers making soothing little circles on her skin as she talked on.

'The divorce was taking ages because he was being such a shit, arguing over every tiny detail and pushing for everything. He came round one evening after the girls had gone to sleep, and said he wanted to sort things out amicably. So I let him in, and gave him a glass of wine, and we sat in the kitchen and talked. At first he was OK but then he started his little games, and I got more and more angry with him. Eventually I told him to go, but he wouldn't. He stood leaning against the worktop, grinning at me, until I was screaming at him to get out.'

Mack stroked her softly, let her talk.

'He's a big, muscular, solid man. I couldn't shift him if he didn't want to move. And that night, for some bloody reason, he wouldn't budge. Stood there, laughing at me, refusing to leave. My daughters were upstairs, this was my little world and he'd invaded it. I started to panic, and then I lost my temper, hitting him with my fists. For a while he just laughed at my pathetic efforts, then he grabbed my wrists and held me right up against his chest. He was so strong, I couldn't move. He stuck his face in mine and said...' She stopped, rested her forehead on Mack's shoulder and took a few breaths. 'He said: "You can't hurt me because you're weak. But I can hurt you, anytime I want."'

Mack murmured something under his breath and pressed his lips to Ellie's head, desperate to reassure her. He felt her tears on his skin.

'I lost it, Mack. I was screaming, and I wanted him gone, at any cost. I wanted him to disappear completely, for ever. He had hold of one wrist but I'd pulled the other free and I was feeling round for anything I could use to hit him. My hand landed on something and I grabbed it. It was a bread knife, Mack. I tried to stab him. Really tried. Wanted to stick it in him and kill him. He was too quick, and too strong, but I cut him. The knife caught him on the throat just under his chin and he bled like a stuck pig. It was such a rush, seeing his blood run. He's still got the scar. They talk about a red mist descending, don't they. It's true, it's exactly what it's like. It was like a horror movie. He hit me in the face, and I fell over. I must have dropped the knife. By the time I could see straight up he'd gone. That was three years ago. I haven't set eyes on him since.'

She rolled away from him, lay on her back, tears running into her hair.

'My brave, brave girl. You must have really scared him, the bastard. My poor love. Ellie...' Mack put both hands to her head and looked into her eyes. 'What he did to you was torture. He took control away from you, taunted you, then threatened you. What you did was braver than I can imagine. You didn't run away, you didn't give in, you fought for your daughters and your home. And you drove him away.'

'I'd have killed him, Mack. I intended to, wanted to. Murder, Mack.'

'No. Ellie, listen to me. _Not_ murder. Self-defence. He was threatening your whole world, physically and emotionally. You defended your family in the face of extreme provocation.'

'But I wanted to kill him. That's not self-defence.'

'It was a fleeting moment fuelled by adrenalin. Fight or flight. You couldn't run, so you had to fight. Once he'd gone, did you want to chase after him and kill him?'

'No. I was so relieved. I was shaking so hard I couldn't stand up for ages. I kept throwing up all night. I slept with the girls for a month because I was too scared to sleep on my own. Hiding behind my babies – very brave...'

Mack pulled her close but held her gently; as she cried softly he stroked her hair, kissed her, murmured reassurances, until the tears stopped and she began to relax against him, falling into exhausted sleep.

She was woken sweetly by Mack's mouth on her body like a morning blessing. He brought every part of her to tingling life until she caught fire. Afterwards, they lay breathless and glowing, Ellie propped on her elbow gazing at Mack with a lopsided smile on her face.

'Do you know what you are, Mackintosh?'

He shook his head.

'You're my favourite man in the whole world.'

'Ellie...'

Mack pulled her tight to him, buried his head in her neck, the scent of her filling him. He breathed her in, relished the feel of her on his skin, in his arms, everywhere his body touched hers; drank in the sounds of her, the silky whisper of her hair, the tiny sounds of pleasure she made deep in her throat; the taste of her... oh, the taste of her...

'I love you, love you so much...' he murmured, the feeling fierce inside him. This was nothing that he'd known before. Catherine had never made him feel like this; with her it had been an obsession, wanting to own her, a piece of exquisite art, fresh, untouched. His discovery, his possession. But she'd never loved him, and he'd never understood her, never got close to her – the mystique was what kept him spellbound.

Ellie was sweetness, strength, honesty, giving. Freedom. She gave everything, demanded nothing; saw nothing of her own value, found value in him, laughed at herself, made him laugh. She'd fight monsters for her family, but she'd let him in. Trusted him. Enough to reveal what she believed was her darkest secret.

But what of his own secrets? He couldn't hide them from her. He couldn't repay her shining honesty with deception, even though it would drive her away. Loving Catherine was an enchantment that had used the darkness in him, and it had catastrophic consequences. It nearly destroyed them both. It had killed a man. And now it was going to break his heart.

He'd hurt Ellie, and he'd lose her, but he couldn't keep her by lying. He had to tell her. And tell her now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC


	7. Winding down

_The penultimate chapter. A tiny bit of angst here, be warned. If you wondered why Mack was so depressed and miserable in his last CO episode, this might explain it. Thanks again to Wombledon and for topnotch picky beta-ing, and to Grainweevil for the CO reality check. _

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'Ellie, I've got something to tell you. I've been putting it off, hoping I never had to say it. But I've got to.'

Mack's face was ashen. Ellie looked scared, unable to imagine what it could be.

'You're not ill…'

'No, no, I'm fine.'

'And you haven't got another wife stashed somewhere, or a boyfriend?'

Mack shook his head, wishing she'd take him seriously. 'No. Ellie, listen…'

'No, Mack, my love, you listen.' She put a hand on his chest. 'I don't want to know about your past now. I know you're not completely perfect, but just because I told you about Tim, you don't have to dredge up a Dark Secret of your own.'

'But you don't underst…'

She kissed him softly, stopping him from saying anything more. 'I understand that you love me, which is so much of a miracle that every time I wake up and feel you lying beside me, I thank a god I didn't think existed. If I can make you happy, I don't really care if you're the sole cause of global warming and the Manchester cell of Al Qaeda, rolled into one.'

Mack ran his fingers lightly from her forehead down to her breast, looking deep into Ellie's eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears. 'You make me happier than I deserve to be.'

'Good. Now let's get some sleep before our last delicious day off.' She kissed him and snuggled into his arms, and was asleep in a heartbeat. Mack lay silent, holding her, wondering if the past would sleep as soundly.

xxxxxxxxxx

Sunday morning passed in a luscious haze of love, lust and laughter, fuelled by an indulgent, lazy breakfast brought to their room at nine by Jo Gibbon.

Mack, decorous in a bathrobe, opened the door for her. 'Quick question. We're supposed to be out of the room at eleven, aren't we?'

'Supposed to be, yes. But we've got no-one booked into this room tonight, so if you wanted another couple of hours, that's fine.'

Mack grinned. 'You're very kind. We'll be down for lunch at one, all packed and ready. Thank you, Jo.'

She smiled a conspiratorial smile and left them to it; Ellie sat up in bed and reached for a slice of melon. 'What were you chatting about?'

'Exerting all my charm to get us another two hours. I've promised we'll be out at one.'

'Only four hours left? What are you doing wearing that thing, then?'

They were only ten minutes late for lunch.

Later, full of wine and food, they were pulling on coats ready for a last walk round the lake, when Ellie put a hand on Mack's arm. 'Are you doing anything tonight? I mean, do you need to go home?'

'Do you want to stay another night?'

'Oh – don't tempt me. I'd like to move in here permanently.' She squeezed his arm. 'I wondered if you'd like to stay at home with us tonight.' A spasm of doubt crossed her face. 'But you probably don't want to… The girls will be overexcited and a complete pain, and you must have a zillion things to do after ignoring your Crackberry all weekend. It's okay, we can…'

'Do I get to answer, or have you already decided?' He was laughing down at her. 'I'd love to stay with you tonight. I'd love to be driven insane by your dotty twins, and I'd love to wake up with you on Monday morning, if the invitation extends that far.' He kissed her nose.

Mack stayed in Bamford Avenue that night, and on Tuesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, and most of the weekend, going home only for clean clothes and messages. On Monday night, Ellie's mother interrogated her about him, about this tornado of a love affair, about where they were heading, and about her sanity. On Wednesday night Ellie weasled out of a client's invitation to a concert at the Bridgwater, and spent the evening with her twins, talking about Mack, and about Mrs Kuniewicz, their Eccles-born English teacher who was teaching them Polish because she loved her new husband Krzysztof so much. Then they talked about Mack some more.

On Saturday night, after the girls had gone to bed and Ellie and Mack were lying together on the sofa, worn out after the day's twin thrills, he nudged her in the ribs. 'It's Valentine's Day next week.'

'On the fourteenth, I believe.'

'Possibly. Anyway, nutcase, what would you like to do? Can you get the day off?'

'Unlikely. We've got a deal that should complete next Thursday. Might not know till the day – could scupper any plans we make.'

'Bastards. Why can't they mind their own business instead of insisting that you mind it for them?'

Ellie giggled. 'Heresy. Anyway, stuff 'em. What sort of thing did you have in mind?'

'Something unromantic, I thought. Going down a mine, maybe, or browsing the power tools in B&Q.'

'I've just got IKEA's spring catalogue – we could look at modular furniture and dine on Swedish meatballs and lingamyoni sauce.'

'_Lingamyoni_?'

'Lingonberry sauce. Lingams and yonis were the only things that stuck in my mind after being made to read the Karma Sutra by my first boyfriend.'

'Filthy tart.'

'I think filthy's a bit harsh, but I do prefer the fruit salad.'

Mack laughed. 'You loon. Is IKEA the best you can come up with?'

'Surprise me. See if you can avoid clichés for the whole day.'

'If there are only three steps to heaven, how far is half-way to paradise? I'm a believer, but a daydream believer. Help! Can't buy me love….'

'How do I turn you off? Where's the switch?' Ellie rooted through Mack's hair, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

'There's a lever down here.' He grabbed her hand and showed her.

After that the evening just got better and better.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been one of those days at Mackintosh Textiles: Health & Safety had been picking nits in the paperwork; one client had been on the phone whingeing about hems, another had sent back a delivery because the colour of the stitching wasn't what he asked for. Freda had been stirring up trouble about overtime rates, and to top it off, Grace had started throwing up as soon as she'd clocked on, went to the doctor and was signed off sick. Mack hadn't left the factory till nearly midnight, trying to get ahead so he could take the next day off. He had plans for Valentine's Day that didn't include moaning clients, whingeing workers and pregnant secretaries.

He couldn't get to sleep, though, and lay in bed – in his own bed – lonely, frustrated and knackered. He hated being away from Ellie; nine days after he'd first kissed her, he was addicted. Wanted her all the time. Not just for sex – wanted her sweetness and honesty, wanted her affectionate teasing and sharp tongue. Clever, quick tongue. His body twitched at the memory of her tongue. It wasn't the sex. Well, it was the sex, but that was the rich, sweet icing on the cake. Everything about Ellie, from her daughters to her dubious singing voice, was everything he wanted. Everything he'd missed from other women. He used to want beautiful blondes, perfect young bodies, high maintenance women. The sort of women other men lusted after. The sort of women who wanted to be admired and spoiled. Worshipped. The sort of women who'd go for the highest bidder, always with an eye to the next bid. Women who made him jealous. It was jealousy that destroyed his marriage, jealousy that refused to accept that it was over. Jealousy that did for Peter Cochrane's father.

He had to stop thinking about it. Ellie didn't want to know. He had to let it go. He'd found a therapist immediately after it happened, and had spent almost eighteen months trying to excise the jealousy, understand what he was so afraid of, learn how to recognise the warning signs, deal with the rage, cope with a flaw that could destroy everything. He'd lost so much for fear of losing something that wasn't worth keeping.

Mack thrashed about in bed, restless, too hot under the covers but too cold without them. Wondered if Ellie would say yes. Wondered where they'd find something she'd want to wear for him; wondered if she wanted diamonds or colour. Emeralds, maybe, she wouldn't suit rubies. Green eyes, but softer than emeralds. Not the green of jealousy. The green of jade, milky jade. Not precious enough for her. Precious stones, precious love.

The phone jolted him out of his fractured thoughts. It was after three in the morning – this could only be bad news.

'Mack?' Ellie's voice shook; she was crying.

'What is it, love? What's…'

'Edwin's had a stroke. They don't know whether he'll survive. Clare's not making much sense…'

'Your brother Edwin? But he's younger than you. Are you sure it's a stroke?'

'Of course I'm sure, Mack. I spoke to his doctor.'

'I'm not being funny, love, but the language thing...'

'He's from Hemel Hempstead, Mack. His English is not a problem.' She sounded calmer, at least: Mack's questions were firing up her analytical lawyer's brain.

'I'll come over. Is your mother with you?'

'She's on her way. I've told her to get a taxi – she's in no fit state to drive.'

'Ring her back and tell her I'll pick her up on the way. I'll be with her in fifteen minutes.'

Ellie was crying openly now. 'Mack…'

'I'll be with you soon, love. Hang on.'

Edwin Jeffreys had been running his own distribution business in Dubai for almost five years, had a wife and two children at an ex-pat school – wife Clare teaching kindergarten, and his twin sons in their second year of primary. The stroke had happened after supper – Edwin was carrying the boys upstairs, slung over his shoulders in a fireman's lift, when he collapsed without a word. The boys were unhurt, but shocked and frightened that it was their fault.

'It looks like a major stroke, according to his doctor, but they'll have a better idea after twenty four hours.' Ellie was calm, but shivering and ashen. The girls were still in bed asleep, and Diana was fussing over the kettle, flustered by the choice of Earl Grey or PG Tips. Mack resisted the urge to take over from her, knowing she needed some distraction from thinking about her son.

'He's so far away. I don't know what I can do from here.'

'Ellie, love – pack a bag and fly out. Get your passport; I'll phone and book you a ticket now. You can be there before teatime.'

'I can't just… go. What about work? We're supposed to be completing on Fr…'

'Edwin takes priority. I'll speak to Peter Cochrane. Diana will look after the girls. I'll do anything that needs doing here, or I'll come out to Dubai if you need me there.'

'Mack, I can't ask you…'

'Yes, you can, my love. Now go and pack. You won't need much; anything you forget, you can buy out there. Go on.'

Diana headed for the study. 'I'll fetch your passport, darling.'

Mack took Ellie to Manchester Airport for the ten o'clock flight. She clung to him, her face pushed into his neck, hiding her tears. 'I'm so sorry, darling Mack. Thank you for…' Her voice cracked, and she clung even tighter.

'My funny Valentine… Love you, Ellie. I'd do anything for you, you know that.'

She looked up at him, eyes wide. 'Oh, god… Valentine's Day. All your plans… Mack…'

'The date's not important, love. The day I planned for you will keep till you get back. Till you feel like it. Whenever.' He kissed her swollen eyelids, the salty cheeks, the soft lips. 'I love you very much. Ring me. Let me know you there safe, and if you want me with you, I can be there in twelve hours.'

'I'll miss you so much. Love you, Mack.'

She pulled herself out of his arms and hurried away from him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Two days later Diana phoned him just before midnight. 'James? I'm so sorry to ring so late…'

'Diana? Don't apologise. What's the news?'

_'Edwin… died …' _

'Oh god, Diana. I'm coming over. I'll be there in twenty minutes.'

Mack found Diana on the kitchen sofa, head bent almost to her knees, wrenching sobs shaking her entire body. He took her into his arms gently and let her cry into his shirt. After a few minutes, she pulled away, wiping her face. 'I'm so sorry, James. Thank you. You're very kind.'

Mack put a hand on her shoulder and stood up. 'Stay there for a moment. I'll get you a drink.' He fetched her a brandy, sat back down beside her and waited for her to talk.

'Ellie phoned. Edwin had another stroke this evening. There was nothing they could do; he never regained consciousness, so he didn't suffer. That's what she said.' Her voice wobbled, but she held herself together. Mack put his hand over hers, and she gripped it tightly.

'Ellie has arranged for him… his _body_…' – she could hardly say the word – 'to be flown back, so we can have the funeral here, where his friends and family are. But Clare wants me there to look after the boys.'

'I'll book you on to Emirates for the morning flight, and I'll take you to the airport. What about Greta and Tabby?'

'Ellie said would you mind moving in here for a few days till I get back? They'd feel safer here with you than staying with friends.'

Mack felt tears come to his eyes. For Ellie to trust him with her girls… 'Of course. You know I'm happy to help any way I can. I'll arrange things at work so I can take them to school and pick them up every day.'

'There's a girl in the twins' class called Diana Ford. Her mother is Joanna Ford. Ellie says you could ask her to take Greta and Tabby home with her after school if you're stuck at work. I've got her number.'

'Okay, that's useful to know. But it should be all right this week.'

Diana looked him in the eye. 'I can't believe how short a time we've known you; but it feels as though you're part of the family. I'm so grateful to you, James.'

'I take that as a great compliment, Diana, thank you.'

'If you're wondering why Ellie didn't phone you, it was only because Clare was reacting very badly, and there was so much to sort out. She said that if you could ring her at eight, her time, she'd be on her own and able to talk.'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ellie and Diana were back from Dubai on Sunday night, with the funeral to arrange; Mack was going to leave them and the girls to themselves, but Ellie clung to him and begged him to stay. The first chance they had to talk was in bed, with the house quiet and everyone else asleep.

'Hold me very tight, Mack. I need to know we're still alive.' Ellie nestled into him, getting contact against his skin with as much of her body as she could.

'I've missed you. It's been wonderful being with the girls, though. They're both so like you, in such different ways. Made me love you even more.'

'They loved you looking after them; thank you, darling Mack.'

'How about you? What are you feeling?'

'I'm okay. Glad to be home. Numb. Upside down.'

'What's next?'

'Edwin's body will be back here on Wednesday, so I'll see if we can have the funeral on Friday. Doesn't give us much time, but we'll keep it simple.'

'I'll help.'

'No, Mack, I don't want you having to do so much.'

He stroked her face tenderly. 'I'll do everything I can, my love. Don't refuse help at a time like this.'

She glanced at him, and his heart turned over to see the tears on her lashes and her wavering smile.

'How are Clare and the boys coping?'

'God knows. The boys were silent all weekend, and Clare didn't stop talking. It was mostly poor-me stuff, but I think she's just scared.'

'Is she bringing the kids over for the funeral?'

'No. She's not coming. Says she needs to keep life as normal as possible for them.'

'But…' Mack was aghast.

'I know. I tried to change her mind, but Clare has her own way of doing things.'

'So what's she going to do?'

'She wants me to sort out the business. Mack, I'm going to have to go back out there.'

'I'll come with you. Help you get it all boxed off and the family back home.'

'No, love. Clare says she can't wind up the business or she'll lose everything. Edwin had to give some of his principles really tight warranties and covenants, and Clare can't just stop it all. I need to check up on Dubai law, too – not sure what happens before probate's granted. Clare doesn't even know where Edwin's will is. A mess. A hideous mess. She can't afford a lawyer over there, so Muggins has got the job.

'How long, do you think?'

'Clare said three months but it might be six. I don't know till I get back out there.'

'Six months? Christ, Ellie, can't I do something to help sort it out any faster?'

'You've got a factory to run, Mack. It'd fold if you took more than a couple of weeks off. Bet you haven't had a proper holiday for years.'

'Stuff the factory. I don't want you having to carry this on your own. I can come out for a week each month, at least.'

'I'm so tired, Mack. Don't want to think any more. Touch me.'

He expected a slow, gentle love-making, but she was fierce, demanding, fevered. She drove him to the edge in minutes and tipped them both over, gasping and shuddering, straight into exhausted sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxx

The pub was quiet – Tuesday afternoon, Easter holiday. Mack could hear himself think, which wasn't good. The whisky wasn't helping. He'd said goodbye to Ellie and the twins that morning, and he had no idea when he'd see them again.

Her bloody sister in law had insisted on keeping Edwin's business going, but she wasn't prepared to do anything to help. Too busy with her sons, she'd said. Too bloody dim and lazy, more like it. And Ellie was too loyal to refuse. Peter Cochrane had been sympathetic, as Mack knew he would be. But the senior partner had no such bone in his body. He had given Ellie a month's compassionate leave, after which she'd had a choice: come back to work in Manchester, or take a job in the Dubai office on a three-year contract. He'd got her over a barrel. Hobson's choice. So she'd gone to Dubai for three years, had got the girls into the same school as their cousins, and would be running Edwin's business as well as doing a full time job for Jericho Johns' Emirates office. No time for anything else. She'd refused his offer to go out to help with the business, saying she didn't want to burden him; didn't want to risk his business. Couldn't ask so much of him.

However many times he said he wanted to help, tried to explain that loving her meant that her priorities had become his priorities, she wouldn't accept it. She actually said at one point that she loved him too much to ask it of him.

Mack sighed, dropped his head and stared into his whisky glass. The truth was that she didn't want him enough. Family came first for Ellie, and he wasn't family. He thought about Valentine's Day, when he had planned to propose. He'd kept the ring with him, hoping beyond hope that he'd find the right time to ask her. Right up to the day she told him she'd decided to take the Dubai job; take the girls out there and leave him behind. That night he'd put the ring away, filed it under H for _hopeless_. Or R for _redundant_: who cared? Today he'd had to say goodbye to the family he'd believed was his future.

Must get it into perspective. It was a sweet nine days' wonder, their little affair. Very sweet, very unexpected. But she'd come to her senses, realised that he wasn't long term material. Maybe Peter had warned her off. Nice bloke, Mackintosh, but bad news for women. Must be, they all leave him, however much he begs them to stay. Maybe he didn't deserve to be happy after what he'd done to Katherine and what he tried to do to Trudy. He'd been such a bastard. Perhaps it was better like this, so he didn't get the chance to fuck up Ellie's life as well.

Mack sat up with a jerk, slamming his hand on the table, and his head back against the upholstery. He downed the whisky in a gulp and left, chancing the short drive home. He'd promised to go to some bloody party that night – Paula Swift's youngest's bar mitzvah – couldn't afford to upset this customer by not turning up.

Four hours later he was wondering how quickly he could escape the clacking, braying, tedious swarm: women with their brassy hair and bronzed limbs, everything on show and nothing worth discovering; men displaying their peacock feathers as much to intimidate other men as to unlock a woman.

He felt a light touch on his arm, scented a flowery perfume, and looked around. Pretty woman smiling up at him. Blonde, confident, well-dressed, youngish. Moneyed Cheshire in her voice; candid intent in her eyes.

'Hello. David' – she nodded towards their host – 'says you sail.'

Mack shrugged. 'Not really. I've got a boat sitting idle in Majorca. I go and sit on it for a week every year, and someone scrapes the barnacles off now and then.'

'So you need someone who knows their sheets from their shrouds…' Another flash of pearly teeth.

'You're an expert?'

'Semi professional in the sport, yes. My name's Miranda, by the way.' She held her hand out, and after a second, Mack took it in his.

'James Mackintosh.'

'Oh, I know. Actually I know all about you.'

'I hope not.'

'It'll be fun finding out, then.' There it was again, the winning smile, the winsome tilt of the head. Ellie never bothered with this nonsensical sexual posturing. But Ellie wasn't here. Ellie had escaped him.

'Well, Miranda. Can I get you another drink?'

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_To be concluded…._


	8. Chimes

_After leaving them in limbo for ages, here at last is the final chapter of Mack and Ellie's story. (The big secret, finally confessed, is taken directly from the series, and couldn't be allowed to go unshriven if they are to have a suitably blissful future.) As ever, huge thanks to patient and wise beta counsel Wombledon, to all of you for reading and for wonderfully kind reviews. I hope you enjoy the outcome._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ellie stared out of the car window, but saw little of the E70 motorway heading west from Verona; she was replaying her conversation with Peter Cochrane six days earlier.

'Paola Scaligeri is a good client for you. Small book printer, about seven million Euro turnover, but a strong niche market – high quality illustrated books. Clients all over the world, some blue chip. Needs expert advice but can't afford the likes of Jericho Johns. And you get to spend a week on Lake Garda. Hang on – what am I saying? Forget it – I'll go.' Peter's fine-boned face split into a broad grin, and Ellie laughed at him.

'Patrick would have your _coglioni_ on toast if he heard you giving me a client. Why _are_ you giving me a client?'

'It's better for Paola, good for you, and Jericho Johns doesn't need the tiny fees.'

'Not to mention building the reputation of your future partner. '

'Quite. But you didn't say that, and I didn't hear it.'

'Cochrane & Jeffreys? Jeffreys & Cochrane…'

'Hush, woman. Walls have ears.'

'When are you going to tell them?'

'When you've done well for the three clients you've got on your books. Can't take the risk that you've gone off since you've been in the Gulf.'

'What, in less than two years? Bloody cheek.' She smiled at her erstwhile boss.

'It's hot out there. And you've been doing two jobs. For all I know you've been living on cocaine and arak.'

Ellie snorted. 'You have an odd idea of a working mother's life.'

'I thought you had a built-in nanny in the shape of your sister in law?'

'You are joking. Clare doesn't have many verbs in her vocabulary beyond _shop_ and _chat_.'

'Heigh ho. All done and dusted now.'

'Thank god.' She looked at him, eyes narrowed. 'I've been meaning to ask you… I've been trying to get in touch with Mack. No-one seems to know where he is.'

'I wondered how long it would take you to ask. When were you last in touch with him?'

'Not long after I took the girls out to Dubai – the last time I saw him was when he took us to the airport. I spoke to him on the phone when we arrived, but since then, not a word. He never replied to emails, never returned calls.' Ellie's voice wobbled, and she took a deep breath. 'When I got back I heard he'd sold the factory and left the country.'

'Exactly. It came out of the blue: he handed over all his shares to his little brother, who promptly sold to a trade buyer, and Mackintosh Textiles now has no connection with the family. I have absolutely no idea what happened… Mack took off to Spain one day and hasn't been back since.'

'Alone? He didn't go off with, um…'

'A woman? No. I gather Mack dumped her over the phone.'

'So there was a woman.' Ellie looked bleak.

'Miranda Roberts. Her father's a QC in Toff Martin's chambers. Got her claws into Mack, pretty much moved in within a month of meeting him.'

'A month? Christ. He didn't hang around, did he?'

'I don't think he had the energy to keep her at bay. She'd fixed her sights on him, and before Mack knew it she'd told everyone they were planning some great romantic sailing trip round the world. Clever, eh?'

'Cleverer than me. At least she got to move in with him.'

'Ellie…'

'Don't worry, I'm fine. Really.'

Fine or not, she was now chasing across Italy for a meeting with the new client, who needed an English lawyer to get rid of one investor before she could take on another. The taxi left the motorway, and ten minutes later was on a narrow peninsula, with the vast blue lake on either side. Ahead of them were battlements; the taxi stopped at a huge gateway, and Ellie was left to find her way through the citadel of Sirmione to the Hotel Flaminia where she was meeting Paola. The place was beautiful –­ tiny streets, ochre walls, a moated castle, dark archways and narrow steps – the archetypal medieval Italian stronghold. But she didn't have time to explore – she had ten minutes to reach the hotel. She got there in three, thanks to a helpful girl who pointed her down an alleyway which burst open on to a broad promenade, the blue, blue waters of Lake Garda stretching to the hazy mountains. People were sitting at café tables scattered along the front for a hundred yards or more, and the Hotel Flaminia stood foursquare on the waterfront, all white walls and bright shutters. Ellie prayed the meeting was going to stretch till lunchtime, and that they'd eat somewhere here, fish caught this morning and fruit fresh from the tree.

Directed up to the first floor, Ellie walked up the stairs slowly, with time in hand. As she neared the top, she heard two voices, male and female; the woman had a decided London accent, and the man… dear god…

Ellie's knees threatened to give way, and she clutched at the banister rail. It was Mack. She'd swear it was Mack's voice. Her heart was in her throat, her pulse hammering so hard she thought she was going to black out.

Twenty months since she'd seen him. The love of her life, she'd thought, in those beautiful, amazing days they'd had together. A future together. Family. All those promises… then silence, sharp as a scalpel.

Now here? Out of the blue? She could have sworn it was his voice. But the coincidence was too much. She must be hearing what she longed to hear. She walked up the last few steps and turned the corner to find the corridor empty. Shaking with sudden nerves, she knocked on the door of the Bardolino Suite.

The door was flung wide, and Ellie was met with a warm smile and East End vowels. 'Allo, sweet'eart. You must be Elena. I'm Paola Scaligeri.' When she said her name, her accent changed to a native Italian. 'Come in, come in.' Older than Ellie, Paola had a firm handshake and an instantly likable face, drawing Ellie into a small meeting room overlooking the lake. 'You all right, darling? You look a bit pale.'

'I'm fine, thank you.' Ellie smiled at her new client and tried to pull herself together. 'Can I just ask – when I was coming upstairs, I thought I heard a voice I knew. Were you talking to someone?'

'My new investor. He's English, but he lives here now. I met him through a mutual friend. You'll meet him later. He'll keep till then.'

Ellie could hardly breathe. _Can't ask his name. Can't bear it not to be Mack. Don't know what to do if it is…_

Pausing only to get Ellie an espresso and some iced water, Paola drove the meeting onwards. Ellie was due to see the print factory and meet the rest of the board the following day, so this was a nuts and bolts meeting to introduce Ellie thoroughly to the business as it stood. It was after one o'clock before Paola called a halt.

'Right, sweetie. Lunch. Come on – we've got a table booked downstairs.'

The late October weather was glorious, but not too hot to sit in the sun. They were led outside to their table, and as Ellie emerged from the building and looked to see where they'd be sitting, she felt as if she'd been shot.

Rising to his feet was a tall man wearing sunglasses. His hair was sun bleached, his skin a dark gold, and he was dressed like a local in loose white linen shirt and trousers. But there was no mistaking him, not for a single nano-second.

'Ellie, this is my new investor, James Mackintosh. James, this is Elena Jeffreys, partner with Gallard Jones Kennedy.'

There was an instant where the air seemed to shiver and the whole world fell silent.

'Hello, Ellie.'

'Mack. Hi.'

He took off his shades, and the sea bright eyes captured her.

'You know each other?' Paola was intrigued.

Without taking her eyes from Mack, Ellie answered. 'Yes. I used to work for Peter Cochrane. Mack was a client.'

'Ah. Yes. Peter.' Paola couldn't keep the curiosity from her voice. Mack and Ellie hadn't taken their eyes off each other, though it didn't seem the happiest of meetings. They hadn't shaken hands, just stood transfixed.

'I didn't know you were back.' Mack's voice was flat.

'Mm. About a month ago. I had to get the girls back into school.'

'How are they?'

'Fine. Great, actually.'

'And you?'

'The same.'

'Are you, really?' Mack scrutinised her.

'Yes. How about you?'

'As you can see.'

'Made some changes.'

'Yes. Seems so.'

Paola rather pointedly pulled out her chair out and sat down. 'Come on, you two. Catch up later. We've got lunch to eat.'

The deadlock was broken; Ellie and Mack sat, and went through the process of ordering food neither was going to eat.

'Excuse me for a minute, will you? Got to make a quick call. Back in a sec.' Paola grabbed her mobile and vanished, leaving her lunch guests facing each other.

Mack broke the silence. 'I thought you were out there for three years?'

'I was. But Clare met someone, and he moved in with her and the boys. He bought the business, so she's got herself money and a new man without moving a muscle, and I was redundant.'

'Lots of available men out there, all of them rich and frustrated. Didn't you find one?'

Ellie gave him a look that would have taken the shine off a diamond. 'I wasn't looking.'

Mack had the grace to blush, and looked away. He cleared his throat and broke into the silence. 'Weren't you tied into Jericho Johns?'

'The employment partner in Manchester is a good friend. She found a loophole in my contract, tipped me off, and told Patrick Johns that there was a risk I could have them for constructive dismissal: not letting me come back to Manchester after eighteen months in the Dubai office was effectively forcing me out of the firm. In the circumstances, it didn't make the partners look good. So Patrick offered me a chunk of money to shove off.'

'Who are Gallard… er…'

'They're me. It's a tiny firm in Didsbury; two of the partners died, and the last one wanted to retire, so I used my hush money to buy the goodwill. Don't need an office – I'm working from home.'

Mack nodded slowly. 'Up and running again, independent as ever, eh?'

'No, as it happens. I've had a lot of help.'

'You accepted help? Well I never.'

Ellie blinked as the acid in his voice bit into her, bringing tears to her eyes. She turned her head and stared at the lake, willing herself not to cry. It didn't work. She felt the tears spill; she got to her feet and walked back into the hotel.

Mack felt like a condemned traitor, disembowelled and powerless, barely able to breathe. The woman he'd longed to see more than any other, whose image, scent, smile, voice, skin, had never left him… Ellie… had appeared out of the shimmering Italian sky, and he'd cut her to pieces. Ellie, who'd been in his dreams through so many lonely nights, whose laughter he'd heard in the crowds, whose touch he craved for eighteen long months. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, head in hands, fingers digging into his scalp, needing pain to stop himself breaking.

'You okay, James?' Paola's voice brought him out of the fog. Their food was on the table: Mack had been completely unaware of its arrival.

'Where's Ellie? She hasn't left? What did you say to her? Oh… no, her bag's still here.'

'Er, gone to the, er…'

'Weren't expecting to see her, eh?'

'No.'

'Want me to find another lawyer?'

'No. She's good. It'll be fine. Just a bit of a shock.'

'Want to tell me about it?'

'No. I will, but not now.'

'All right. Let's just get through a quick lunch and then I'll take her back to town. You won't need to see her again.'

'No… I do. I mean I can't…'

Paola's eyes narrowed at she scrutinised his face. 'Look, darling, why don't you skip off now and leave us girls to have lunch together. You can come back in a bit, or go and find Ellie later. She's staying at the Elefante. Take her to dinner. There's a great little place near the Ponto Nuovo that's like a 1950s movie set. Piazzetta Pescheria. Here…' She scribbled the details and a sketchy map on a paper napkin and stuffed it into Mack's hands. 'Now bugger off, you gorgeous man, and let me talk to your girl.'

Mack shot her a look, surprised by her shrewdness. Paola chuckled at his expression.

'This is Italy, James, and that's _amore_. Go on, shove off. I'll ring you later.' She smiled, and patted his arm.

When Ellie came back a few minutes later, Mack had gone, and Paola was making short work of a glass of white.

'Feeling better?' Come and sit. Have some wine.'

'I'm so sorry…'

'Don't say another word. I quite understand.'

Understand what? Ellie wondered what had been said. 'Has Mack gone?'

'Yes. It's just us, so you can relax and eat.'

Over lunch, Paola conjured the story from Ellie, or an edited version, at least. It was a relief to talk, and Paola Scaligeri was so easy to talk to. Born in Verona, her parents split up when she was two, and her English mother took her to London, and she grew up in Bethnal Green. After university she came back out to join the family business, and now she was the boss, married to the operations director, and the mother of three teenagers.

'You're very unusual, Paola. Unlike the businesswomen usually I meet.'

'Takes one to know one, sweetie.'

Ellie chuckled, charmed by her new client. Then immediately realised how she must have come across. 'Oh god, and I've been waffling on about my personal stuff like a schoolgirl. Completely unprofessional. I'm so sorry.'

'Listen, darling. I do business with people, not robots. A real live fallible human being for a lawyer will do me very well. Now come on, we have dessert to eat, and then you're going back to the hotel to sleep and have a long bath. Then we're going out for dinner in town. We can work tomorrow.'

Ellie tried to protest, but Paola dismissed it with a bored wave of the hand. 'Not up for discussion. What are you going to have?' Ellie took the dessert menu from her and surrendered.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The little place on the Piazzetta Pescheria was a bar that served food, rather than a restaurant, so Ellie and Paola had got stuck into a jug of Mojitos. By eight thirty, when Mack sauntered up to their table, they'd reached the giggly stage.

'Hello, darling. What a coincidence…' Paola waved Mack to a chair. 'How extraordinary that you should be wandering past.'

Ellie snorted. 'Very subtle.'

'I'm a very subtle person. Haven't you noticed?'

The two women shrieked with laughter. Paola waved the jug at Mack, but he shook his head and waved at the barman to order beer. After another swig of cocktail, Paola slammed down her empty glass and stood up.

'You're not going?' Ellie was peeved at the loss of her drinking buddy.

'Pressing business, darling.'

'Paola, you're not planning to drive home.' Mack was stating, not asking.

'Nah. Meeting Antonio round the corner. Nighty night, my angels. Have fun.' She tottered off to find her husband, leaving Ellie alone with Mack.

'I'm a bit pissed. Well, quite a lot pissed, really.'

'If you slow down and I drink faster, I can probably catch you up.'

'Slow down… good idea.' Ellie emptied her glass and put it down very carefully. 'Did you know I was coming to see Paola?'

'No. Did you know I was her new investor?'

'No.'

'Peter.' They spoke the name in chorus, and smiled at each other. It changed something between them; broke the tension.

Mack took a long pull of beer. 'The sneaky bastard.'

'My thoughts exactly.' Ellie couldn't take her eyes off him. He looked so beautiful in the evening light, the golden skin of his throat glowing against the white linen, his eyes luminous in the tanned face. There were new lines around his mouth, though, and he was thinner than when she'd seen him last. She wanted to smooth away the lines, kiss him better, feed him, love him. She had to sit on her hands to stop herself reaching out to touch him.

'For someone who's been in the Gulf for eighteen months, you look very pale.'

'Dubai's too hot. Can't expose English skin to the sun. You spend most of the time in air conditioned buildings and stay in the shade if you're forced outside during the day.'

'If you stay here for a few days, you'll lose the Mancunian tan.'

'I'm going back tomorrow night.'

'Tomorrow? Can't you stay longer? Or have you… something to get back for?'

'Nothing important. Only my daughters.'

Mack dropped his head, cursing himself. 'Don't say it like that. I didn't mean… I just…'

'Sorry. Didn't mean to be narky. I'm a bit on edge. You being here – it was a bit of a shock. I don't really know how to behave.'

'Do you want to me to go? Or I can drive you back to the hotel. Or get you a taxi…'

'This isn't going very well, is it?' Ellie's voice trembled. For a moment she'd thought they could relax a bit, start to enjoy each other's company again. The moment hadn't lasted long.

Mack ached to kiss away the sadness on her face; he longed to hold her, take her home to his bed, lock them both in and let the real world fuck off. 'Can't you stay a bit longer? Please. Stay for the weekend. An extra day. Ellie, please. The girls love staying with Diana. Or they could all come out and join us… join you.' He stopped, suddenly hearing himself. He was doing it again: begging a woman to stay with him when she wanted to be anywhere else. He slumped back in his chair and put his hands on his head, clutching at his hair. 'Sorry. I'm being stupid. Selfish. Forget all that. But can I at least take you to the airport tomorrow?'

Ellie nodded, hearing herself say yes, even though the thought of saying goodbye to Mack at another airport was unspeakable.

'Are you hungry?'

Ellie shook her head. 'No. Are you?'

'No. Let's walk across the bridge and find a taxi.' Mack paid the bill and they wandered down to the Ponte Nuovo but stopped on the corner. 'Fancy a walk?'

Ellie looked up at him but his face gave nothing away. 'Okay.'

They ambled down the embankment, through the medieval heart of Verona, the narrow street dark but for a string of lights threaded from tree to tree, the reflection of another string across the river glittering in the shallow water. Ellie longed to touch Mack, to feel his body warm against hers, to put her hand in his and let him match his stride to hers; but he was keeping an arm's length between them.

She walked beside him, confused as hell. _He said he wants me to stay, but he won't close the gap between us. If neither of us makes the effort, we'll say goodbye tomorrow and that'll be that._ She stopped. 'Mack…'

He turned to her, halting beneath a tree; Ellie couldn't see his face in the shadows. She put a hand out to him, her heart thumping. 'I've missed you so much….' For an agonising moment she thought he wasn't going to respond.

After a long frozen moment, Mack grabbed her hand and pulled her into his arms, squeezing the breath from her body as he hugged her fiercely. 'Ellie, oh Christ, Ellie – I've missed you too. More than you can imagine.' He kissed her hair, kissed her neck, pulled her body tight to his so she could feel his heart pounding. He felt himself reacting to her touch, scent of her skin, the feel of her hair as his hand pushed through it, the places where their bodies touched. He'd almost forgotten how intensely he wanted her, had pushed the memories aside to stop the ache; but here she was in his arms, and the last eighteen months were washed away with the first touch of her mouth on his.

Her arms round his neck, feeling his hands on her body and his lips on hers, Ellie clung to him, overwhelmed with the taste and feel of him…

He pulled away from her suddenly, running a hand through his hair. 'Christ. Now I've got to tell you. I tried once, but you wouldn't let me; then you went away. Can't avoid it any longer, but you won't want to stay, when you know.'

Ellie, frustrated as hell, was furious. 'The first kiss for eighteen months and now you have news? I don't care! Shut up and kiss me, Mack…' She tried to put her arms round him, but he stepped back. All at once she looked scared. 'You're not ill…'

'No, no… It's something I did. Something awful.' Mack turned and walked a few steps away from her, leant his elbows on the wall, staring out across the river.

'Tell me, then, for god's sake.'

'You know Peter's father was the firm's solicitor since my father started it?'

'Yes.'

'I'd known him all my life. He was nothing but a loyal friend. He died in my office. Had a heart attack. Because I hit him, Ellie. I hit him, and he died.' He hunched over the wall, staring at the water. The words hung between them, but Ellie said nothing.

'I killed Robert Cochrane.' Mack's voice was harsh. 'I should be in prison. Sometimes I feel I might as well be. Most of the time I can block it out. Pretend it never happened.'

'How…?'

'How come I wasn't caught? Because I said it was an accident. Because there was a witness who backed me up.'

Ellie waited.

'Catherine was there. She lied for me, let me cover up what had really happened.'

Ellie leaned on the wall beside him, their shoulders touching. He leaned away from her but she slipped an arm round his back and took his hand in hers. 'Tell me what happened.' She could see that Mack was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

It took him a few moments to get control. 'It was last September. The marriage was on the rocks. I found out that Catherine was having another affair but I wasn't going to let her go. Thought if turned a blind eye I could make her stay.' He paused. 'I was mad. She'd wanted out years earlier, thought that if she had affairs I'd throw her out. I couldn't face the idea that she didn't want me, couldn't bear to lose my prize possession. She was desperate, I can see that now. But I think I really went insane with jealousy. I used to watch every man in the factory because Trudy said it was someone I paid wages to. Watched them, wondering who it was who was laughing at me – taking my money, taking my wife. It drove me mad.'

Mack stopped, lost in the bitterness of the memory. Ellie rubbed her thumb over his hand, and waited.

'The day after our anniversary she walked out. Didn't say anything, just kissed me and left the house. I didn't have a clue – until I opened the wardrobe to get a suit, and saw all her stuff had gone.

'The previous day we'd swapped cards. I bought her a watch. We had sex, for god's sake. That evening she turned up at the factory with Robert Cochrane, and she said she wanted me to buy the building from her – it was in her name as a tax dodge.

'I couldn't believe it. My own bloody solicitor, sitting there, chuckling.' He dropped his head for a moment, then pushed himself upright, turning to stare at the shadows, unable to bear Ellie's gentle touch. 'I lost my rag. I accused him of screwing her. It suddenly made complete sense. Why else would he side with her against me? He'd been my solicitor, and my father's solicitor. And now he's helping her screw me for the money. I hit him. Just once, but I hit him hard on the jaw, and he fell against the wall and slid down to the floor. Sat there, his eyes closed.' Mack's own eyes clenched tight for a moment, the memory scalding. 'Catherine realised something was wrong. I didn't know what was going on. She called the ambulance. One of the paramedics saw the blood on his face and asked what it was. I didn't know what to say. Catherine was quick as a flash. He landed face down, she said, my husband tried to catch him…

'We went to the hospital, and Peter came out, said his father had died.' Mack leaned his forehead against the cool glass and sighed.

Ellie spoke softly. 'What happened – did he hit his head?'

'No. Heart attack. He had angina; Peter said he'd had two minor attacks in the spring.'

'So he could have died any moment, Mack.'

'No, you don't seem to understand. In a jealous rage I accused him of something dreadful, then I hit him, and the shock stopped his heart. Then I lied to cover it up, and I've lied to Peter ever since.'

There was a long silence.

'Did you tell Miranda about this?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because I didn't want her knowing everything about me. She was never going to be a fixture.'

'She didn't know that.'

'Miranda was desperate for a husband and she latched on to me. When I left, I gather she didn't spend long crying, since she married someone else last month.'

'You sound as though you hated her.'

Mack sighed. 'No, of course I didn't. Miranda's little tragedy was that however hard she tried – and she did try – she couldn't make me love her. Couldn't stop me feeling lonely. Couldn't fill up the hole inside me that had your shape. I didn't want her, but I didn't have the balls to resist her. She was a presence in the house, a body to keep the darkness at bay.' He paused, stared at his feet.

Ellie crossed her arms and frowned at him. 'You used her.'

He glared at her. 'Yes. She was using me, too. She didn't love _me_. She was in love with a picture of a successful man that she'd glued on my face. Business owner. Money. Power.' He laughed bitterly. 'If she'd only known. But she saw a boat in Mallorca. Saw someone to take her to charity balls and buy stupid bloody nonsense she could show off to her smart little friends over expensive little lunches. We never had a conversation that lasted more than three minutes. She'd have bored me to death if she hadn't suffocated me first.'

'Didn't stop you shagging her, though, did it? How soon did she move in, Mack? How long did you wait after I left? Weeks? Or was it only days?'

'She never moved in. Not officially.' He looked shifty as he remembered telling Miranda to keep his house keys. 'We weren't living together.'

'Just shagging often enough for her to think you were, huh?' Ellie's voice was frosty, the hurt slicing through her filling her with ice.

'_You_ left _me_, remember.'

'_My brother died, remember?'_

'I wanted to come out with you, _remember_, but you refused me.' His words were bitter, the acid of them burning her, sparking tears.

'How could I let you? I'd known you for ten days… I had no claim on you. You had your own business to run, for god's sake. How long before things at work began to slide because you were always in Dubai, and you started to blame me?'

'For _fuck's_ sake… No claim on me? Which means you think I had no right to expect anything of you. _Jesus_…' Mack felt his temper rising dangerously. _Breathe… walk away… don't lose it… _ He turned and walked two steps away, folding his arms tight across his chest, keeping himself contained, sucking air into his lungs, hanging on to control.

Ellie was shocked at the speed at which the row had erupted. Her gentle man, her sweet Mack… She'd never seen a hint of his temper till now, and she'd wound herself into a cold rage in the same few seconds. 'Is there any point in continuing this conversation?' Her voice was so flat, so desolate, that it jolted Mack out of his anger.

His heart lurched; ached for her, for them both. He slumped back against the wall of the embankment. 'Oh, love… I'm _sorry_.'

'Sorry for what, exactly?' Ellie was shocked to hear the bitterness in her voice.

'For being angry with you. For… oh god, everything.' He put a hand over his face, unable to look at her.

They stood apart in the painful silence for a long minute, till Ellie spoke softly. 'Our first row.'

'Yes. I'm so sorry. I'll take you back to your hotel.'

'You give up easy. And you didn't hear what I said.'

Mack looked at her, the question unspoken.

'Our first row. _First_, Mack.'

He still looked blank.

A smile crept over her face. 'Don't be so dim, my love. We won't argue if we stay apart. And if we don't argue, we can't make up.' She walked over to him and put a hand to his face, stroked his cheek with the gentlest of touches. 'Take me home, Mack, and let me make it up to you.'

His eyes were shining, the long lashes damp, as her arms snaked round his neck and her mouth found his. It was the sweetest of kisses: caressing, clinging, tasting… until the moment was shattered by the buzz of a motorcycle as it shot past them.

Driving back to Sirmione, he was very quiet, his eyes on the road, and only his hand clutching hers gave Ellie any clue to his feelings. Eventually he found his voice.

'What I told you… about Robert. You didn't say much.'

'I knew about it. Peter told me.'

'_Peter_ told you? When?'

'A few days ago.'

'How… what did he… he knew?'

'Catherine told him last year sometime.'

'She… but… he's said nothing. Said _nothing_.'

Ellie squeezed his hand. 'He said he couldn't talk to you for about a month after Catherine told him, because he didn't know how he'd react.'

'Christ. It must have been when I met you. I didn't see him for weeks. Bloody hell. But I don't understand how he…'

'Peter thinks the world of you. And he said Catherine tried it on with him more than once, so he had an idea what was going on. He doesn't blame you for Robert's death. Said he'd been on borrowed time so overdue he must have had huge fines to pay at the pearly gates.'

Mack half laughed and shook his head. 'So why has he told you now?'

'He said you weren't culpable for his father's death, but for lashing out like that, losing your rag – yes. Peter wanted you to realise your temper was out of control. And he must have wanted me to know then because he knew we'd meet here. A very Peter sort of test to set, the crafty sod.'

Ellie let go of Mack's hand to reach across and stroke his cheek. 'I suppose he thought if we'd have any chance of a future it would have to be with a clean sheet. He's a good friend.'

'Aren't you afraid that I might lose my temper with you?'

'No. For one thing you know I love you, so I won't give you any cause to be jealous, and anyway I believe you've left that man behind.'

Mack turned his head, and the look in his eyes melted her insides into liquid honey, a stream of images rushing through her head of their bodies twined together, hands and mouths conjuring magic from one another. The half-hour drive seemed to take for ever, but at last Mack was leading her by the hand to a narrow gate and a flight of steps up to a balcony overlooking Lake Garda.

'_Wow_… beautiful.' Ellie whispered as she stepped into his apartment.

'Just what I was thinking.' Mack stood behind her, one finger trailing down her spine, making her shudder with wanting. She turned and met his gaze, sea green meeting jade, radiating such heat through her body and melting her bones, so that she was forced to cling to him to stay upright. It was as good an excuse as any.

He gathered her up, lifting her off her feet, swaying her in his arms, his face buried in her neck, breathing in the scent of her till he felt dizzy. 'Welcome home, my darling love.'

Her answer was muffled in Mack's hair, but her shining eyes, when he laid her down on his bed, told him everything he'd been waiting so long to hear.

xxxxxxxxxx

Later, they lay in each other's arms, languor weighing down their limbs and skin glowing. Ellie stroked her fingertips lightly along Mack's jaw, the stubble catching her nails. 'So how come you're here? I thought you went to Mallorca?'

'I did. The boat was there; it was somewhere to go. But the place is stuffed with ex-pats; I didn't want to hear British voices any more and the boat just reminded me of what I'd left behind. I flogged it to a bloke from Milton Keynes. Came to Verona to see an old friend. No Brits here, and nicer wine, so I stayed.'

'Don't blame you. Are you happy?'

Mack cupped her face in his hand and kissed her nose, his eyes smoking hot. 'With you lying naked in my arms? I'm happy.'

She kissed his smiling mouth. 'Me too. But that's not what I meant. Do you like the life here?'

'It's a beautiful place, but it didn't stop me being lonely.'

She hugged him tight. 'Like Dubai, then.'

'If you're with me, Wythenshawe municipal dump would be beautiful.'

Ellie giggled. 'We must go sometime.'

'Must we?'

'We can keep it in reserve for when we get bored of Italy.' She squealed the last word as Mack explored her geography first with his hands and then his mouth.

'How could I get bored of Italy when it's got valleys like _this_; and mountains like _this_; and dark damp caves like _this_…' He muttered as he explored; he was doing such a good job of mapping her, that Ellie lay back and gave him the right to roam.

In the morning, basking in sunlight streaming in through the windows of Mack's bedroom, the seagulls screaming across the lake, Ellie phoned her client. 'Paola? There's good news. You might have to find another lawyer. There might be a conflict of interest…' She laughed in delight at Paola's reply, and hung up. She rolled over and looked into Mack's smiling eyes. 'Well, my dearest love, not only has my client not fired me, but she's given me the day off.'

'I knew there had be a reason why I liked her.' He stroked one hand up over Ellie's warm body, and reached to kiss her breast, working his way up to her throat. 'Are you going to stay for the weekend, then?'

She sang a few bars of Ilkley Moor Baht'at, then gave him a look. 'What's it worth?'

Mack choked with indignation. '_Hah_.. and I thought you were a cheap date. What more do you want? You've got sun, wine, food and sex on tap and you're not satisfied.'

'Exactly. Once you've satisfied me, if you _can_ satisfy me, I'll give it some serious thought.' She squealed as Mack, growling, tipped her on to her back and pinned her down so he could get to work.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Having eaten very little since breakfast the previous day, Ellie was ravenous by midday, and Mack had promised to provide her with a large and delectable lunch. While he was arranging it, she phoned her mother and gave her the severely edited highlights of the last twenty four hours, then had to forestall Diana's excited questions.

'Mum, I'll tell you everything when I see you. I need to know if you can bring the girls out tomorrow….'

'To Verona? Tomorrow? No… sorry, darling, you know I can't. I'm going down to London in the morning – Aggie and I are booked into the Sanctuary at midday.'

They'd worked out the logistics by the time Mack put his head round the door to announce that luncheon was served, so as Ellie pounced on the goodies laid out in the kitchen, she gave Mack the game plan.

'Mum's in London this weekend, So I'll nip back in the morning and collect them. Jo Ford's bringing them to Manchester Airport to meet my flight, so if we can get seats on the return flight, we should be back here by lunchtime.'

'But you'll have to take them home on Sunday – seems a bit of a trek for twenty-four hours. Poor kids will be knackered for school on Monday.'

'Ah, no – it's half term, so we can stay with you all week. If you'll have us…'

Mack picked up a fat prawn. 'Oh, I'll have you. For as long as you like. Can't wait to see them.' He put the prawn's tail between his teeth and offered it to Ellie. She took a bite, her lips grazing his, their eyes inches apart.

'_Mmm_.'

'Sexy.'

That was it for lunch, as they decided they needed more exercise.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Having seen Ellie on to the plane the following morning, Mack sat in his car and made a call to Manchester. It was answered immediately.

'Sorry to call so early, Peter, but I had to tell you that you're a manipulative cunning bastard, and I owe you my life, at least twice over.'

'You old romantic, you. How are you, Mack? How's Paola?'

'What you mean is, how's Ellie?'

'Well… er… yes. Sorry. Couldn't resist. You both seemed so bloody miserable and the solution seemed so simple. Is she there?'

'On her way to Manchester.'

'Oh. Did I miscalculate?'

'No. She's picking up the twins and coming back this afternoon.'

'Did she tell you that I'm leaving Jericho Johns to join her practice?'

'Makes sense. It's very good news. When?'

'Patrick will insist on six months garden leave so the sooner the better.'

'Listen, Peter.' Mack took a deep breath. 'About your father…'

'Water under the bridge. Dead and buried, you might say. Sorry. Bad taste. But he was my dad so I can get away with it. Ow. Sorry...'

'It's me who needs to apologise, not you. I…'

Peter interrupted. 'Enough of that. You're getting boring now. But you can buy me a very expensive lunch.'

'How about next week?'

'You coming back?'

'I was hoping you could come out here for a day or so. Wednesday or Thursday?'

'Something important?'

'Very. Speculative, but should get a decision later today.'

'Er… if it's really that important, I can fix it.'

'Please. I'll need you here. Best man for the job.'

'Wednesday, then, back on Thursday.'

'I'll never be able to repay you.'

'You're good for it, Mack. See you next week.'

Mack drove the short distance from the airport to the print factory via a coffee shop, and took breakfast in for Paola. They rearranged the meeting for Monday to introduce Ellie to the rest of the board and move the deal along, but that done, Paola leaned back in her chair and wagged a pen at Mack.

'You owe me a story, James.'

So he told her. Leaving Paola smiling and misty-eyed, Mack headed back to the airport to get his girls, making a few more calls while he waited for the Manchester flight to touch down.

Standing at the arrivals gate, he pulled a plain gold chain from round his neck, undid the clasp and slid off a ring of sapphires and diamonds. He thought about the plans he'd had for the abortive Valentine's Day the previous year, and the excruciating months that had followed. Ellie's absence; Miranda's presence; the hideous mess he'd made of leaving Mackintosh Textiles; his flight to Spain. The day he'd left, he dug the ring out of the back of the drawer where he'd slung it months earlier and threaded it on to the gold chain before he left the house for the last time. He'd not taken it off since; not till now. He prayed that he'd read things right, that there'd be no more goodbyes.

The doors opened, and a string of people and laden trolleys drifted through. A black-haired kid in a Man United shirt was snatched up by excited, noisy grandparents. And then they were through. Ellie, face shining as she caught sight of him; Tabby and Greta, nearly eight and three inches taller. Ellie bent down and spoke to them, pointing in his direction. The girls looked up and caught sight of him, and their faces were all the cue he needed.

'Mack! Mack!' Tabby yelled, jumping up and down on the spot. Greta sprinted straight to him and flung herself into his arms, and Mack was down on his knees to gather her in, with his other arm held out for Tabby, only seconds behind her sister. After fierce hugs, the girls turned and grabbed Ellie's arms, squealing with joy and bouncing back and forth between them. Ellie was laughing in protest and trying to keep her daughters from creating a luggage pile-up as passengers swerved to avoid them.

Mack was still on his knees. 'Er, girls, shush a minute. While I'm down here…' He reached for Ellie's left hand, and took the ring from his pocket. The twins were immediately frozen, eyes wide, agog.

'Elena Jeffreys, my one true love. Welcome home. Marry me? Please. Will you?'

xxxxxxxxxxx

They were married the next Thursday morning, in the tiny chapel in Sirmione, with the twins as bridesmaids, and their grandmother Diana, Peter Cochrane, and Paola Scaligeri to witness. They were all hopelessly adrift in the Catholic wedding service, but between Paola and the young priest, Mack and Ellie were guided through the promises and declarations, and were sent out into the sunlight as man and wife. Dazed with happiness and by the speed at which their lives had turned the right way up at last, the couple led their little party to a terrace on the water's edge for an afternoon of celebration.

Late that night, lying in the moonlit silence, Ellie stretched like a cat, then nestled back into Mack's arms. He grunted sleepily and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer.

She kissed his chin. 'Hey, you. There's so much to sort out. Where are we going to live? How am I going to run a law firm with Peter if I'm here? Will the girls do better in school here or there? What about my mother?'

Mack took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. 'You and Peter are quite clever. You work it out and let me know. I don't care. I've got you. Anything else is a bonus.'

'There's always Wythenshawe municipal dump.'

'Exactly. Now go to sleep, beloved Mrs Mackintosh.'

At the sound of her new name, Ellie smiled, and with a purr, she put her head on her husband's chest and slept.

_-- FINITO --_

xxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N Forgive the licence with Catholic weddings – it probably wouldn't be possible to marry there and then, but accuracy is over-rated. Sorry, Vatican folk._


End file.
